In spite of the distant rumbles of thunder and the darkness outside the stained-glass windows of the church, the christening service was full of charm. Cuddling Ned to her Joss looked round at the twenty or so guests clustered around the font and felt a tremendous elation, which increased as she passed the baby to Edgar Gower.
She glanced from Edgar to James Wood, who stood beside him. Lucky baby to have two vicars at his christening. A double blessing. A double safety net. She glanced at David and found him watching her with a slightly absent frown on his face. Was he thinking the same thing, she wondered? Was this belt and braces christening enough to ward off the horror which had sent John Bennet fleeing forever from his home? She looked up in spite of herself at the window where Janet had placed the huge foaming bowl of white roses and she shuddered.
There was a touch on her shoulder. Luke. He was looking down at her with an expression of such tenderness that she felt a lump in her throat. She reached for his hand and together they heard their son named Edward Philip Joseph before the world.
David managed to manoeuvre Joss into a corner half way through tea. Around them guests were devouring cake and drinking champagne or tea with equal enthusiasm. Tom, covered in cake and icing and melted chocolate, worn out with the excitement had curled up on one of the sofas and was fast asleep, whilst the star of the show, sleeping equally peacefully, was in his pram in the study where it was quieter.
The great hall rang with shouts and laughter. Wine flowed and the boards groaned beneath their load of food.
Katherine and Richard, hand in hand, led the dancing and their faces glowed in the candlelight.
The king’s gift of heavy silver filled with white roses stood in the place of honour on the high table.
With it came his love.
‘So. It’s going well.’ David raised his glass. ‘Well done. A wonderful spread.’
‘Thanks to Lyn.’ Joss, clutching a tea cup was longing to sit down; she was wobbly with exhaustion.
‘You read the photocopies I sent you?’ David reached over to the table and helped himself to a couple of egg sandwiches.
She nodded. ‘Let’s not talk about it now, David.’ Even the thought of the contents of those few sheets of flimsy paper sent a shiver down her spine. ‘Edgar thinks this – all this –’ she waved her hand behind her as the crescendo of conversation steadily increased, ‘will help to make the house a happy place again. No more shadows.’
David shrugged. ‘Good. There’s more to discover, though, you know. Going right back into the past, there is something or someone at the root of all this and I want to find out what or who it is.’
Joss looked up at him, half amused, half irritated. ‘What if I don’t want you to? What if I tell you I want to stop the research.’
He looked shocked. ‘Joss, you can’t mean that. You can’t not want to know!’
She shook her head, and shrugged. ‘I don’t know what to think. I’m confused. If it were somebody else’s house, David. Someone else’s problem. But I live here.’ She gazed round the room as though looking for some clue which would tell her what to do. ‘Supposing the truth is too awful, David? Supposing it is insupportable?’ She held his gaze for several seconds, then slowly she turned away.
It was very late before everyone went to bed that night, Luke’s parents and Matthew in the two attic rooms which had been made hospitable, David in the spare room where he usually stayed. It was an airless muggy night, the occasional flicker on the horizon and the almost inaudible grumbles of thunder betraying the fact that storms were still prowling around.
Exhausted, Joss threw herself on the bed, still fully dressed. ‘I don’t think I have the strength to have a bath.’
Luke sat down beside her. He gave a great contented sigh, stretching his arms above his head. ‘I really enjoyed today, Joss. It’s so nice having Ma and Pa and Mat here. They love the house, did they tell you?’ He smiled, reaching over to kiss her. ‘Come on, sleepy head. Climb out of your dress. It’ll get spoiled if you sleep in it. I’ll go and check on Tom and Ned.’
Ned had been allocated his own small bedroom, opposite Tom’s. A cot, a pine chest of drawers and now lots of shiny christening presents adorned the room which Lyn had papered in a pattern of teddy bears and balloons. Luke peered in. The baby was fast asleep his little hands lying half clenched above his head, his face pink. Above him hung a mobile of small red fire engines, a present from his godfather, Mat. ‘He needs something he can use now,’ Mat had said cheerfully. ‘The mug is boring. He won’t need it till he’s about twenty. I wasn’t sure what babies like when they’re this big – or,’ he had peered into the pram doubtfully, ‘to put it another way, small.’ The mobile was perfect. Already Ned had spent a happy half hour seemingly gazing at it before he drifted off to sleep.
Tom was fast asleep too, lying on his tummy, his bedclothes tumbled at the end of the bed. Luke left them.
Even with the windows thrown open it was too hot to breathe. He stood for a while in the bathroom sluicing cold water over his face and head then at last he climbed into bed and lay staring into the darkness.
He was woken much later, by a piercing scream from Tom.
‘Christ! Joss, what’s that?’ He was out of bed before he was properly awake and before he realised that Joss wasn’t there. Scrabbling for the light switch Luke ran into Tom’s room. The little boy was lying on the floor beside his cot amidst a tangle of sheets, sobbing his heart out.