Josephine Cox Sunday Times Bestsellers Collection. Josephine Cox
lingered on the stairs. ‘Sounds like she’s getting her second wind,’ Adam joked, then glanced at Mary, his eyes swimming with tears. ‘Do you think she’ll be all right?’ he asked the dear girl beside him, his voice choked.
The little man had never been afraid of anything, but losing Lucy filled him with terror. For the past twenty years and more, he had seen life through her eyes, laughed with her, cried with her, and through it all, he had loved her from afar.
The ironic thing was, in the same way that he had loved her, Lucy had loved Barney. Yet Adam consoled himself with the belief that she had a different, special kind of love for him. It was that which kept him close to her, and always would.
‘I hope so.’ Mary’s thoughts were on a par with his. She felt sick to her stomach. ‘She’s fought with poor Dr Nolan before and sent him packing,’ she reminded him, crying even as she joked. ‘But this time, he’s as worried about her as we are.’
Each wondering what the outcome of this night would be, they continued down the stairs in silence.
They were still silent and sombre as they came into the drawing room. ‘How is she?’ Ben had not known Lucy long, but already she had won a place in his heart.
‘We’ll know soon enough,’ Mary said quietly. She lingered at the door, her eyes searching the upper levels. Dear God, let her be all right, she prayed. Don’t take her from me yet. Somewhere in the back of her mind she had always known there would come a day when she would lose the light of her life. But not yet, dear Lord. Not for many a year to come.
The waiting seemed to go on forever, until at last the doctor walked briskly into the room. ‘She’s sleeping now,’ he told them all. ‘I’ve given her a sedative.’ His long thin face broke into a weary smile. ‘She’s hard work,’ he said, ‘but I got the better of her in the end.’
‘What’s wrong with her?’ Mary cared nothing for his smile.
The smile fading, he took a moment to consider his answer. ‘I can’t be sure … I’d like to take a blood sample and have some tests done in the hospital labs.’
‘What sort of tests?’
‘Well,’ he answered cautiously, ‘she’s unusually tired, and complaining of breathlessness: this could point to anaemia. She seems to have little strength.’ The smile crept back again. ‘Though she did manage to fight me off once or twice.’
Knowing how all three of them were hanging on his every word, he continued on a more serious note, ‘I’m a little concerned about her heart and blood pressure, but I can’t be sure about anything until we do those tests. For that I’ll need her to come into hospital overnight.’
At the mention of hospital, Adam turned pale. ‘But she will be all right, won’t she?’
Careful how he answered, Dr Nolan momentarily lowered his gaze. Lucy Davidson was a legend in this hamlet; despite her reclusive nature, she had made many friends and as far as he knew, no enemies. She was generous, funny, honest and outspoken, and he understood why these good people should be so concerned. However, at the moment, he could only make a guess at her underlying condition. She was ill, though. There was no denying that.
‘Had she not worked herself into a state, I would have admitted her to hospital tonight,’ he said. ‘As it is, and because she’s calmer now, there’ll be nothing lost if we leave her till morning. She needs plenty of rest. Let her sleep, that’s the best medicine for now. I’ll be back first thing.’
‘But will she be all right?’ Like Adam, Mary was desperately seeking reassurance.
‘We can only wait and see.’ He chose his words wisely. ‘I would rather not speculate, though I won’t deny that your mother is ill,’ he said kindly. ‘She’s very weak and, as you saw for yourself, her breathing was laboured.’
Before they could question him further, he put up a staying hand. ‘Once we get her into hospital, we’ll know more.’
As he left, he said, ‘You may look in on her, of course … I would want you to do that. But she must not be disturbed. Rest is the best thing for her just now.’
With the doctor gone, the mood was solemn. Ben felt as though he was intruding, but when he suggested leaving, Mary persuaded him to stay awhile. ‘I’ll go and check on Mother. Adam can put the kettle on, if he doesn’t mind?’ The little man nodded his agreement and set off for the kitchen. Mary then turned to address Ben. ‘We can all keep each other company for a while, unless you really want to leave?’
She thought of how he had come here to Knudsden House in good faith, to return her mother’s bag, and had been quizzed relentlessly about his personal life; on top of that he had been made to think he was duty bound to ask her out one evening. Any other man would have been long gone, but she truly hoped he would stay; his presence gave her so much comfort.
‘I’ll stay as long as you like.’ Ben did not hesitate. ‘There’s nothing urgent waiting at home.’ He had only offered to leave out of consideration, and was delighted that she felt need of him.
‘I won’t be long.’ While Ben went to join Adam in the kitchen, Mary ran upstairs and crept into her mother’s bedroom. She gazed down on Lucy’s sleeping face. In the gentle light from the bedside lamp, her mother looked so much younger; her skin was clear and smooth as alabaster, and her lashes lay like spiders’ legs over the slight curve of her cheeks. Her long hair was loose about her shoulders and her wide, pretty mouth was ever so slightly turned up at the corners as in a half-smile.
Reaching down, Mary laid her own hand over that of her mother. She could feel the warm softness of her skin, and beneath the tip of her fingers, the blood running through Lucy’s veins. Holding hands was not something she and her mother did all that often, so she felt privileged, and oddly humbled.
Choking back the emotion, she slid her mother’s hand beneath the sheets and covered it over. She then stroked her fingers through the long greying strands of hair where they lay nestled on the pillow like silken threads; so soft in her fingers.
She gazed long on Lucy’s face, her eyes following every feature, every shadow and shape, and all the while she wondered about her mother, and about her father. What had transpired before she was born? What was the secret that she had always known existed? And why had she never been told of her parents’ true past?
Her heart turning with emotion and the questions burning bright in her mind, she kissed the sleeping woman and made her way back downstairs to the men. Adam had brewed the tea and was busy pouring it out. ‘She’s sleeping well,’ Mary told them, gratefully accepting the cup that was handed to her. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen her looking so peaceful.’
‘Thank God for that.’ Adam knew what a restless soul Lucy was, and unlike Mary he knew the reason why. ‘It will do her the world of good to sleep through the night.’ His voice fell until it was almost inaudible. ‘If she’s in a deep sleep, maybe she won’t be plagued by the bad dreams.’
‘What bad dreams?’ Mary had heard his quiet words and they bothered her. ‘Mother never told me about any dreams.’
Silently cursing himself, the little man tried to dismiss his remark. ‘Oh, it’s nothing,’ he lied. ‘I recall how she once told me she’d had a bad dream, that’s all.’
Mary wasn’t satisfied. ‘You said she was plagued. That doesn’t sound like one bad dream to me.’ She knew Adam had known her parents long before she was born, and now she realised he was part of the secret she had never been privileged to share. ‘Is there something you’re not telling me?’
Sensing something too deep for his understanding, Ben wisely changed the subject. ‘The fire’s almost out. Shall I put more logs on?’
Relieved that the moment was broken, Adam turned to him. ‘I think it might be a good idea,’ he said, and to Mary, ‘if that’s all right with you?’
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