‘Yes, I do.’ He sat up, the water coursing off his shoulders and arms and reached towards the towels. She took one and passed it to him. ‘I also understand it’s not easy seeing Lyn spending so much time with the little boys, when you have to lock yourself away in the study writing.’
‘I’m terrified the story won’t be any good when it’s finished.’
‘It will. After all they’ve seen a chunk of it, and they know what’s going to happen. It will be fine.’
‘Do you think so?’ She hugged her arms around herself.
‘I know so.’ He stood up and wrapping himself in the towel, put his arm round her and she found herself enveloped in a warm steamy hug that smelled of soap and Radox. ‘Forget the ghosts, love. They don’t exist. Not in real life. Wonderful for novelists and historians and old biddies in the village, and even retired vicars looking for jobs as exorcists, but not for real. No way. OK?’
She gave a tight smile. ‘OK.’
‘So, let me get dressed and we’ll go down and drink to Belheddon enterprises, and confusion to the ghosts of yesteryear. Agreed?’
‘Agreed.’
Tom’s first scream brought Joss to her knees on the bed as she was dragged violently out of her dreams. She was out of bed in a flash. Behind her Lyn appeared in the doorway dragging on her dressing gown.
Tom was standing in the middle of the floor. Joss reached him first and picked him up.
The child clung to her sobbing. ‘Tom Tom fall. Tom Tom fall on the floor.’ He buried his head in her neck, nestling into her curtain of hair.
Lyn let down the side of the cot. ‘For goodness sake, Joss. Look. You didn’t fasten the side properly. The poor child could have been badly hurt.’ Crossly she began to remake the tangled bed.
‘Of course I fastened the side properly. I always check.’ Joss glared at her over Tom’s head.
Lyn sniffed. ‘If you say so.’ She smoothed the sheets efficiently down and turned back the blankets. ‘Come on Tom Tom, let’s see if you need changing before I put you down.’ She reached for him and Joss felt the child relinquish his tight grip on her neck and transfer it to Lyn’s. She clutched at him. ‘Tom Tom, stay with Mummy,’ she said firmly. ‘I’ll do it. You go to bed, Lyn.’
Lyn stared at her. ‘Why? I’m offering.’
‘I know you’re offering and I’m grateful, but I want to do it myself.’
Lyn relaxed her hold on Tom and stood back. ‘OK, please yourself. Shall I check on Ned?’
Joss shook her head. ‘No. I’ll go to him when I’ve done this. He’ll be ready for his night feed soon. Go to bed, Lyn.’
She sat the little boy down on his changing mat and began to unbutton his pyjamas. He was still sniffling miserably as she laid him back and eased off his trousers, conscious that Lyn was hovering in the doorway. Half hidden by the plastic toddler’s nappy a huge black bruise was developing on Tom’s leg. Undoing the plastic tabs she took off the nappy and gasped. The bruise covered his whole hip.
Lyn had seen it too. ‘Dear God, how did he do that?’ She came and peered at the little boy.
Joss stared at it, horrified. ‘Tom Tom, sweetheart! Oh you poor little lamb!’ She ran her fingers gently over the bruise. ‘How did you do it? Let Mummy see. I’ll put some arnica cream on it. He must have done it falling out of the cot.’ She rolled up the wet nappy and putting it into the bucket under the table she reached for the talcum powder and a dry nappy from the packet.
‘He didn’t fall.’ Lyn suddenly bent closer. ‘Look. Those bruises on his leg. The marks of fingers.’ She stood back suddenly and stared at Joss. ‘You must have done it. You!’
Joss, having smoothed on some soothing cream was easing the little boy’s hips onto the fresh pad folding it over, sealing the sticky strips. She looked up at Lyn furiously. ‘How could you say such a thing!’
‘Luke. Look.’ Lyn swung round to Luke who was standing by the wall watching. ‘For Christ’s sake, Luke, say something. She’s hurt him. Her own child.’
‘Lyn!’ Joss repeated angrily. ‘Luke, don’t listen to her!’
‘You know that’s not possible, Lyn,’ Luke said quietly. ‘You’re being silly. Joss would never hurt Tom. Never.’
‘No, I wouldn’t! How dare you!’ Joss took a deep breath. ‘Go to bed, Lyn,’ she repeated. ‘You’re obviously tired. Let me get on with settling Tom down.’ She was keeping her temper with difficulty. ‘I would never hurt him in a million years, and you know it. The poor little boy has had a horrid fall out of his cot, and he’s bruised, but that’s all. He’s fine now, aren’t you, Tom Tom?’ She pulled on his pyjama bottoms and buttoned them back to the tops. Then she sat him up. ‘OK, soldier, let’s pop you back to bed.’
‘Tin man gone?’ Tom refused to lie down. He stood in the bed, holding onto the bars, staring past her into the corner of the nursery.
Joss bit her lip. She could feel a small worm of panic beginning in her stomach. ‘No tin man, Tom. That’s your bad dream. He’s gone. Silly tin man. He didn’t want to frighten you. He’s gone away now.’ She saw Luke and Lyn exchange glances over her head. ‘Come on. Let’s tuck you up.’
The night feed was the only one she was still giving Ned from the breast. It had seemed to make sense to wean him slowly onto the bottle so Lyn could take over more of the feeds herself, but this last one, in the quiet depths of the night she had been reluctant to relinquish, even though it added to her exhaustion. As she sat with the baby cradled in her arms she knew she would hang on to this precious moment each night as long as she could, when Ned was hers and hers alone.