Katherine. Katherine, sweet child, won’t you talk to your king?
His eyes followed the girl as she flitted through the house. From behind the heavy curtain of rippling, dark-coloured hair, she flirted with eyes the colour of speedwells, her laughter echoing through the rooms.
It was intensely cold over here by the window. Far colder than the rest of the room. Quickly Joss dragged the curtains closed again and turned.
It was standing right behind her, a shadow between her and the lamp. Between one second and the next it was there, blocking out the light, towering over her and then it was gone.
‘Oh.’ Her involuntary gasp seemed a pathetically small sound in the dimly lit room. She stared round frantically, but there was nothing there, nothing at all. She had imagined it.
Lyn glanced up at her as she entered the kitchen. Luke was cuddling Tom, sitting on the rocking chair by the range and already the little boy’s eyes were closed. ‘Come and sit down, Joss. I’m just rewarming supper. He’ll be asleep in a minute and we’ll snuggle him up in a blanket on the chair.’
‘I don’t think we should let him sleep alone in that room any more.’ Joss flung herself down at the table and put her head in her hands. ‘I’d rather he slept in with us. We can move his cot into our bedroom.’
‘No, Joss.’ Luke frowned over Tom’s head. ‘You know as well as I do that that is the thin end of the wedge. He’ll never go back on his own if we let him sleep with us now. Besides with the baby coming so soon you need your rest. Let him stay where he is.’
‘He’ll be all right, Joss. Honestly. All kids have nightmares from time to time.’ Lyn was watching as Luke stood up carefully and lowered the little boy onto the chair where he had been sitting. Tucking him up with his blanket, he slipped the teddy bear in next to him and stood for a moment looking down at his son’s slightly flushed cheeks, listening to his regular breathing.
‘I suppose so.’ Joss stared at her son, her heart aching with love.
‘I know what you’re thinking, sweetheart.’ Luke came over to her and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. ‘All those children who have gone before. Don’t. It’s stupid and it’s morbid. That was then. Now is now.’
In her sleep Joss stirred. A smile touched the corners of her mouth and she gave a small moan. Gently, not waking her, the bed covers were slowly eased back and her night shirt fell open, exposing her breasts to the starlight.
She woke heavy eyed while it was still dark. She stared up at the ceiling for a moment, disorientated and then reached across with a groan to find the alarm clock. It was half past four. What had woken her? She listened. Tom had not woken the night before when at last Luke had carried him upstairs, snuggling down at once with his teddy and turning over with his back to them, his arms around the furry creature’s body, but even though there was no sound from Tom’s room, she knew already that she would have to get up and see that he was all right.
Heaving herself carefully out of bed she stopped for a moment, looking back towards Luke’s humped form. She could barely see him – just the outline in the light from the landing which streamed through the half closed door. He did not stir. Reaching for her bathrobe she padded on bare feet through to Tom’s room and pushed open the door. The room was cold. Far colder than the rest of the house. Frowning she went to the radiator and checked the switch and thermostat which had been left on in case the weather should suddenly revert to winter. It was hot beneath her hand. Shivering she went over to the window. It was open only a crack. Her own reflection as she peered out into the darkness of the garden was dim – a silhouette, back lit by the night light. As she peered she could see the dull gleam of water far away at the end of the lawn, reflected in the starlight.
If you look you will find the house was nearly always inherited by daughters.
Gerald Andrews’ words ran suddenly through her head as the baby kicked beneath her ribs. It would be a boy. She knew it with absolute certainty. A brother for Tom and they were both in terrible danger. Closing her eyes she took a deep breath, trying to stifle the cry of anguish which seemed to be rising inside her from the very depths of her soul. No!
No! Surely to God it was not possible. It could not be possible. Her hands cradled over her stomach, she turned slowly, her whole body clammy with fear, expecting it to be there again – the tall, broad figure between her and the cot. There was nothing.
For a long time she sat, her arms wrapped around her knees, uncomfortably plumped on Tom’s bean bag, her eyes fixed on the sleeping form, hunched under his quilt. From time to time the little boy snuffled and smacked his lips, but otherwise he slept undisturbed. Slowly her lids dropped.
As her head fell forward she jerked awake. In the semi-darkness she felt a moment of confusion. She couldn’t see Tom any more. The cot, black with shadow, stood empty. Scrambling desperately to her feet she staggered towards him, realising only after she half fell, that her legs had gone to sleep.
He was there, almost invisible in the pool of shadow, but still safe, still asleep. With a small sob she turned away. Hesitating in the doorway she glanced back. The room was warm again now. It seemed snug and safe and almost happy; she was overwhelmed suddenly by a longing for Luke.