A boy. Oh sweet Jesus, why couldn’t it have been a girl? She realised suddenly that she was crying. Deep, body-shaking sobs of exhaustion and fear.
She was still crying when Luke came back with the tray of tea things. ‘Joss, what is it, love? Is something wrong?’
‘He’s a boy.’ She was holding the baby tightly against her.
‘Of course he’s a boy.’ Luke sat on the bed. ‘Come on, sweetheart. There’s nothing wrong. Jimbo will be here in an hour. I’ll send him straight off for Simon and he can come and give you both a check up. Come on, love, there’s nothing to cry about.’ He leaned forward and touched the baby’s tiny hand. ‘So, what are we going to call him?’
Joss looked up at him. Her cheeks were still damp with tears, her eyes reddened, her face pale with exhaustion. ‘I’d like to call him Philip.’
Luke frowned. ‘After your father? Won’t that upset Joe?’
She nodded miserably.
‘Then let’s think of another name to go first. A name that has no complications – then he can have Philip and Joe as his second and third names.’ He smiled.
‘Ever the diplomat.’ She regarded him wanly. ‘So. Think of a name.’
‘We don’t have to decide at once.’ He looked down at the sleeping infant. ‘Why don’t you rest. Later, when you’re feeling stronger we’ll do some brain storming, OK?’
He had found the little crib basket, and lined it with sheets. Taking the baby gently from her he laid him in the basket and tucked the blankets round him. ‘There. Rest now, Joss. Everything’s all right. When the phones are back on I will ring Lyn, and Alice and Joe. They’ll all be so excited.’ He stooped and kissed her forehead. Then he tiptoed out of the room.
In the shadows the anger and fear had begun to build once more.
20
‘Well, you both seem extremely well, considering.’ Simon put away his stethoscope and tucked the baby’s little shirt back down under the blankets. He had examined Joss and the baby and inspected the afterbirth. ‘I suppose I should have expected some kind of rebellious move like this!’ He grinned. ‘Didn’t like the idea of a high-tech birth, you said, if I remember?’
Joss laughed. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, fully dressed, drinking a cup of tea.
Simon reached for his own cup.
‘I don’t think we need send you to hospital. As far as I can see everything is fine. As I said before if I remember, take it easy, don’t do too much and I will ask the midwife to call later this morning.’ He glanced at the lamp by the bed. ‘Have you got your electricity back yet up here?’
Joss shook her head. ‘No electricity and no phone. I’m pursuing the primitive birth thing to its ultimate conclusion.’
‘I see.’ Simon stood up. ‘You modern women never cease to amaze me. Well. I must go on my rounds. Don’t hesitate to send for me if there are any problems, no matter how small.’
After he had gone Joss lay back, exhausted, on the pillows. Outside the mist had lifted to leave a beautiful hot day. A sky the colour of cornflowers arched above the garden, reflecting in the lake at the end of the lawn. The house was very quiet. Luke had driven over to Janet Goodyear with Tom, hoping she would look after him for a few hours and hoping even more that the Goodyears’ phone was working. If ever they had needed Lyn it was now. Stretching, Joss stared up at the tester, then slowly she moved her head on the pillow to look towards the front window. The room was full of sunshine. There was nothing there to frighten her. Luke had thrown open the casement and she could hear the birds and smell the wet freshness of the earth and the grass, mixed with honeysuckle.
Edgar! She sat bolt upright. Edgar was expecting her. Damn the phone. Sliding off the high bed with a surge of sudden energy she went to the baby’s basket which was standing on the chaise longue near the back window and peered in. He was asleep, the small lids, blue veined, a fringe of dark lashes on the soft cheeks. He had thick dark hair, like her and Luke, and it stood up on the top of his head with every appearance of having the same wild individuality as his father’s. She smiled. Tom had taken one quick look at his new brother and seemingly lost interest. As far as she could see he was none the worse for the traumas of the night. In fact he seemed remarkably cheerful – the more so at the thought of visiting Janet and the basket of kittens at present occupying the prime spot in front of her Aga.
Slowly and a little painfully Joss made her way downstairs and through the great hall towards the kitchen. Luke had left the post unopened on the kitchen table. Pulling the kettle onto the hot plate Joss opened her first letter while she was waiting for it to boil. It was from David. ‘A few more pieces of the jigsaw,’ he had written in his neat small script. ‘I’ve found a wonderful old book which mentions Belheddon several times.’ Folded into the envelope was a thick wad of photocopied pages. Joss looked up as the kettle began to steam. Putting the letter down she made herself a cup of tea and then, feeling shaky and suddenly very tired she sat down, picking it up again. David went on:
It was published in 1921 and tells some half dozen stories of mystery and mayhem all set in East Anglia. I remem ber your telling me about John Bennet who disappeared some time at the beginning of the century. Well, the author of this book has the story. It’s weird. Are you sitting comfortably? Then read on …
David.
Joss put down the letter and extricated the folded pages. David had photocopied about six and spreading them out in front of her she began to read.