Awave 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!’