‘Tom? Tom, my God, what happened old chap?’ Scooping him up into his arms Luke was trying to comfort the little boy as Joss appeared in the doorway. In her white cotton night-dress she looked almost ethereal for a moment as she peered in. ‘What’s wrong?’ She looked odd to Luke. Vague. Spaced out.
‘Where on earth have you been?’ he shouted. ‘Didn’t you hear Tom crying? He fell out of bed!’
Joss frowned. ‘Tom?’ She stared round. ‘He can’t have. The cot side is up.’ She took a step into the room. ‘I was feeding Ned.’ She reached to touch Tom’s head with her finger tips then she stooped and picked up the tangled sheets. ‘He must have climbed out. I’ll remake his bed and you can settle him down again.’
Shaking out the small white cotton sheets she smoothed them over the mattress, tucking them in. ‘OK? Do you want to put him down now?’
‘He won’t go, Joss. He’s too upset.’ The little boy was clinging to his father’s neck, his face red with screaming, tears pouring down his cheeks and nose.
Suddenly Joss too was near to tears. ‘Luke – I can’t cope. I’m too tired. You’ll have to deal with him.’ She was white and strained. ‘Do you mind?’
Luke stared at her then his face softened. ‘Of course not, sweetheart. Off you go. Go to bed.’
It was a long time before he climbed back in beside her.
It was Joss who moved first. ‘What’s the time?’
‘About three, I think. Sorry. Did I wake you?’
She grimaced. ‘I couldn’t sleep. Too tired. Is Tom OK? I can’t think why he didn’t wake everyone.’
‘He’s settled now. Poor little chap. Joss –’ he turned to her and propped his head on his arm. ‘Joss, when I changed him – he was covered in bruises.’
‘But he was all right.’
‘Yes, he was all right.’
‘He must have got them falling out of bed.’ Her voice was blurred with exhaustion. ‘Don’t worry. He’ll be OK.’
The next morning the storms had cleared away out to sea and the air was fresh and bright.
Matthew was entranced by everything he saw. Standing next to his brother on the terrace at the back of the house he took a deep breath and beamed. The same height and colouring as Luke with dark hair and hazel eyes, he had inherited a crop of freckles from his mother which gave him a carefree, unruly appearance that made him irresistible to women. ‘I’m going to say it again, brother. You’re a lucky, lucky sod!’ Mat clouted Luke affectionately across the shoulders. He raised his hands above his head and took a deep breath of the sweet air. ‘It’s a heavenly place for kids to grow up. I heard young Tom playing in the attics behind my bedroom this morning. God, I wish you and I had had somewhere like this when we were kids!’
‘You heard Tom in the attic?’ Luke stared at his brother, surprised. ‘Well, that’s somewhere he shouldn’t have been. He’s too young to go off up there on his own. I expect he was looking for you or Ma.’
‘Georgie. He was calling someone called Georgie.’ Mat stepped onto the lawn. ‘Come on. I want to see your fish. Are there carp in that lake?’ He set off over the grass, leaving Luke staring at him thoughtfully.
‘You know Tom’s covered in bruises.’ Lyn had come up behind him, her bare feet silent on the warm York stone terrace.
‘I know. He fell out of his cot.’
‘When?’ Lyn stared at him in horror.
‘Last night.’
‘And where was Joss. Why didn’t you call me?’
Luke shook his head. ‘Joss was feeding the baby. I didn’t call you because there wasn’t any need. I coped.’ He smiled. ‘Come on. Let’s go and find a carp for Mat.’
David was watching them from the study window. He stepped back as Joss came in behind him and he felt his heart turn over. Her exhaustion had forged her dark beauty into something ethereal. He closed his eyes, willing himself to put all his lustful thoughts out of his head and with a supreme effort kept his voice steady. ‘Kids OK?’
She nodded wearily. ‘Two grannies baby sitting. I thought I’d have a sit down for a minute.’ She glanced out of the window where Luke and Mat and Lyn were strolling down across the grass towards the water.
‘Poor old Joss. But sorry old thing. No time for resting. I want you to come with me back to the church. There’s something I want to check.’
‘No, David.’ She threw herself into a chair. ‘I told you, I don’t want to think about all that now. I really don’t.’
‘You do, Joss, if it puts your mind at rest.’ He squatted down in front of her and reached for her hand. ‘I had a long talk to your rector yesterday – the old one with the white wild hair – and I put one or two thoughts I’d been having to him for his views.’ He stared up into her face. ‘I think he and I may have similar theories on this one, Joss, and I think that whereas he is coming at it from an intuitive angle, I as a historian have the edge. I know where to look for the proof.’
‘Proof?’ She rested her head against the back of the chair, her eyes on his face. ‘What sort of proof?’
‘Evidence. Gossip. Chronicles. Records. Letters. Not proof perhaps that would stand up in a court of law, but nevertheless something to substantiate and explain what has happened here in the past.’
‘And stop it happening again?’ She looked at him wearily.
‘Until we know what it really is, we won’t know how to fight it, Joss.’
‘And the answer is in the church?’
‘Maybe.’ He stood up and held out his hand again. ‘Come on. Take the opportunity, while the grandmas are here and on call and still delighted with their new grandson. Take advantage of the chance. It probably won’t last.’
‘All right.’ She grasped his fingers and let him pull her to her feet. ‘Let’s go and look.’
The path to the church, cut back neatly for the christening, was lined with pink roses, cascading in heavy curtains from the wild rose bushes, nestling between hedgerow trees and curtains of ivy. Under foot the soft moss, greened by the thundery rain, allowed them to walk silently as far as the door. Reaching for the handle Joss swung it open and they stepped down into the dim cool interior.