Lying awake, staring towards the window, Joss could feel every muscle in her body tense. There was no sound from either of the children; the house was silent. Her eyes were gritty with sleep. She moved uncomfortably, trying not to disturb Luke, totally alert suddenly. Something was wrong. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed she padded across to the crib to look down at little Ned. She had been feeding him every couple of hours during the day, but now he was fast asleep at last, his little eyes tight shut in the shaded light of the lamp.
On bare feet she passed through to Tom’s room and gently pushed open the door. Holding her breath she tiptoed in and stood for a moment looking down at him. He was sleeping peacefully, his cheeks pink, his hair tousled, his covers for once pulled up around him. Smiling she gently touched his cheek with her finger. Her love was so intense it was like a pain squeezing round her heart. She could not bear it if anything happened to either of them.
She glanced towards the window. There was no wind tonight. No draught touched the curtains. There were no shadows in the dark.
Silently she pulled the door half closed behind her and went back to her bedroom. Luke had moved in his sleep, sprawled across the bed, his arm outflung on the pillow. Beside his hand she could see something lying in the dip where her head had been. Her stomach lurched with fear. For a moment she was too scared to move. Her throat clamped shut and she felt the cold trickle of sweat between her shoulder blades. Then Luke moved. With a mutter he turned over, humping the duvet over him and she saw the mark on the pillowcase flatten and stretch and vanish. It had been no more than a crease in the cool pink cotton.
The christening was fixed for ten days later – a Saturday – which gave the Davieses and the Grants, the godparents and other guests time to assemble at Belheddon. It was a thundery day, reminiscent of the night of Ned’s birth, and the humid air was heavy with the scents of the wet garden. The night before Janet had helped Joss with the flowers in the church.
‘You look tired, love.’ Deftly Janet slit the stem of a rose bud and inserted it into her vase. ‘Look, aren’t these lovely? I thought we’d put them round the base of the font.’ She had produced a basket of white roses from her garden, their tightly furled buds still glistening with rain drops, the tips of their petals blushing slightly to a gentle pink.
‘Roses. Bring her roses. Cover her with roses.’
He could not stop his tears. Slowly, gently, he brought his lips to the cold forehead. He knelt beside her while they brought the flowers. White roses in heaps, their fragrant petals covering her like soft snow.
Joss stared down at the basket. ‘Oh, Janet.’ She felt a sudden churning of fear in her stomach.
‘Whatever is it?’ Janet dropped the basket at her feet and reached out a concerned hand. ‘Joss. Aren’t you feeling well?’ Joss had gone as white as the flowers.
Shaking her head, Joss moved away and sat down at the end of the back pew. ‘No. No, I’m fine.’ She shook her head. ‘Just a bit tired. I’ve been trying to make some headway with my writing and I’m feeding Ned about every two hours, even at night.’ She forced herself to smile, but her eyes were drawn back again and again to the roses. ‘Janet, do you mind. Can we put them somewhere else. Perhaps over there, by the choir stalls. I know they’re lovely. It’s just – ’
‘Just what?’ Janet frowned. She came and sat beside Joss, putting her hand firmly over Joss’s as they clutched the back of the pew in front. ‘Come on. Tell. What is it? They’re only roses, for goodness’ sake. The best I could find in the rose garden for my new little godson.’ With Lyn already Tom’s godmother it had been an easy and unanimous choice for Joss and Luke to pick Janet as one of Ned’s three godparents.
‘I know. I’m being silly.’
‘So. Explain.’
Joss shook her head. ‘Just a silly phobia. Thorns. You know. Round the font. Everyone will catch their dresses. And Edgar will rip his surplice.’ She laughed unsteadily. ‘Please, Janet. Don’t be hurt. They’re beautiful. Exquisite. Just put it down to post-partum neurosis or something like that.’
Janet stared at her for a moment, then she shrugged. She stood up. ‘OK. Roses on the window sill up there. And what round the font? How about these?’ She gestured at a bucket full of lupins and delphiniums and marguerites.
Joss took a deep breath. ‘Lovely. Perfect. Just what the doctor ordered. Here, let me help.’
It was late by the time they had finished, locked the church, hidden the key and gone back inside the house for a quick drink before Janet made her way home. Lyn had long since put Tom to bed and pushed supper onto the back of the stove. ‘Luke and I have eaten,’ she said from the sink as Joss walked in. ‘If you want yours it’s there, keeping warm.’
Joss sighed. ‘Thanks. Any sign of David?’ Against strenuous disapproval from Luke she had asked David to be one of Ned’s godfathers. The other was to be Luke’s brother, Matthew.
Lyn shook her head. ‘He rang to say he’d be late leaving London and not to wait supper. He probably won’t be here till ten or eleven.’
‘And Mum and Dad?’