Jack replied through chuckling, “That’s very Scottish.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” Belle muttered.
“Pardon?”
“Nothing,” Belle said quickly, “Um… I have to tell you something.”
Again with the silence then he said softly, “Anything, my love.”
She felt her belly melt, her heart melt and her mind registered that head over heels love business when she heard his tone and his words.
Both of which made her anxiety fade clean away.
Therefore she told him, “Angus and Cassandra are staying at the castle.”
“That’s fine,” he replied immediately.
Belle blinked before she parroted, “That’s fine?”
“Yes, Belle. We’ve plenty of room. Not to mention if they stay, it’ll save on their expenses.”
Belle was surprised at how easy that was.
She, however, thought it best to forewarn him, “They’re a little bit strange.”
His voice was back to sounding amused. “She’s a clairvoyant witch and he’s a Scottish ghost hunter. I figured they’d be strange, poppet.”
“No, I mean,” Belle took in a breath and said, “they’re really strange.”
“She’s a clairvoyant witch and he’s a very Scottish ghost hunter,” Jack repeated. “I figured they’d be really strange.”
Belle couldn’t help it, she giggled.
Then she gave him the full story. “Cassandra’s doing readings. She thinks there’s a third ghost.”
There was more silence, this longer and far, far heavier.
Finally, he said, “A third ghost.”
“She isn’t sure. She’s doing readings.”
“Readings,” Jack replied.
“I don’t know what that means,” Belle told him. “I’ve been napping but I do know she seemed very keen. Cassandra, I mean. She started straight away.”
Belle decided not to tell Jack that Cassandra was keen in a weird, scary way that made Belle’s heart lodge in her throat. Jack, she figured, probably wouldn’t like that.
“Readings,” Jack muttered again, sounding at a loss.
“Jack?”
She heard him sigh another sigh and then he assured her, “It’s fine, Belle.”
“Yasmin thinks they know what their doing.”
“It’s fine.”
“Yasmin seems pretty certain.”
“Poppet, I said, it’s fine.”
“Okay,” she whispered.
“I’ll be home soon.”
“Um…” she muttered again and Jack was silent so Belle forged on, “Angus wears a kilt.” This was met with more silence so she continued, “And hose, ghillie brogues, a sporran, the whole lot.”
She heard him burst into laughter.
It was, she thought, very funny. So, softly, she laughed with him.
“I’ll be home soon,” he repeated when she’d stopped laughing.
“Okay, see you.”
“Good-bye, poppet.”
“’Bye, Jack.”
He disconnected, Belle took the phone from her ear and put it on the nightstand.
She stared at the phone realising she forgot to tell him about Cassandra and her scarves.
She licked her lips and took in a breath through her nose.
Oh well, he didn’t seem overly upset about the rest so Cassandra and her abundant use of accessories probably wouldn’t faze him.
She leaned forward and gave each dog a thorough head rub, saying, “I’m hungry. Let’s see about dinner.”
Baron woofed and Gretl got to her feet and did an excited circle.
Belle got up and walked from the room.
The dogs were at her heels as she made her way down the hall, her mind on her now grumbling belly and wondering how long it would take Jack to fly home.
Therefore, as she reached the top of the stairs, it took her by surprise when both Baron and Gretl closed in and started growling.
She stopped and looked at one dog then the other.
Both were pressing close to her legs, both looking back down their bodies, both had teeth bared.
“What on –” Belle started to say but stopped when movement caught her eye and she looked down the steps.
A young, black-headed boy was racing up them.
Not racing, as in treading, but drifting, swiftly, like a shot.
He was see-through.
Belle’s mouth dropped open.
The boy’s pale, ghostly face suddenly filled with terror and he halted.
“Belle! Watch out!” She heard his eerie, disembodied shout right before the dogs started barking and snapping and she felt what seemed like a hand at her back, shoving.
She lost balance, automatically reaching into the air but there was nothing to grab onto.
Therefore she tumbled down the stairs.
She tried to stop her fall but her head cracked against the fifth step with such force she was unconscious by the time her body rolled to a rest at the foot of the stairs.
* * * * *
Lewis and Myrtle
Myrtle zoomed directly to Belle but Lewis floated in suspended animation in the middle of the stairs and, head tipped back, he stared in horror.
The bad man stood at the top of the steps, grinning.
He could see him, see him for the first time ever.
See him shimmering through.
“You,” Lewis whispered, shocked, scared and angry.
The bad man lifted his ghostly hand and touched his index finger to his forehead in a mocking salute before he glittered and disappeared.
“Help! Help! Help!” Myrtle shouted, her unearthly voice echoing through the stone hall, mingled with Jack’s dogs’ frantic barking.
Lewis heard footsteps as he floated down.
Myrtle was drifting in a crouch over Belle’s motionless body as the dogs circled, sniffed and kept howling.
“Oh my God.” They heard breathed and they looked at who they knew was Yasmin, a family friend both of them liked a lot, mostly because she was funny.
She was staring at them in dazed disbelief.
“Go! Get help!” Lewis shouted, his strange, ghostly voice now echoing with the dogs’ frenzied woofs.
Yasmin ran forward toward Belle and Myrtle drifted away.
She dropped to her knees beside Belle then her head snapped up and she looked at Lewis, demanding, “What happened?”
“Get help!” Lewis replied.
More steps, more people and Yasmin’s head jerked around to look over her shoulder.
“Call 999!” she cried.
“She fell down the stairs,” Myrtle informed the pretty witch who was dialling on her phone.
The Scottish man crouched beside Belle, ignoring Myrtle and Lewis, intent on his effort of feeling for a pulse.
“Belle!” They heard shouted as Rachel arrived, her face white. “Oh Belle! Oh my God! What happened?”
Rachel was shoving in as Lila and Joy made it to the scene.
“Yes, there’s been an accident. Chy An Als Point. Belle Abbot has fallen down the stairs,” the witch said. “She’s unconscious.”
“Belle, honeypot. Belle?” Rachel’s hands were on her and Lewis went to Myrtle, pulling her back.
“She’s got a pulse. It’s strong,” the Scotsman told the witch then he moved to pull Rachel away as he soothed. “Don’t move her. We need to let her lay, lass, wait for the paramedics.”
“I can’t let her lay!” Rachel shouted, her eyes wide, tearful and full of fear as she began to struggle against the Scot.
“Her pulse is strong,” the witch said into the phone.
“Keep holding her hand, Yasmin,” Lila said softly, getting close and dropping down, she gently pulled Belle’s hair away from her neck. After she did this, she continued to stroke her granddaughter’s hair even after she sucked in breath when she saw the blood at Belle’s temple.
“She’s bleeding!” Rachel wailed, her struggles turni
ng frantic.
“It’s a head wound, love. We’ve got to let her lay or we might do her more harm,” the Scotsman tried to calm Rachel while gently pushing her back.
“She’s bleeding,” Joy whispered in a voice so horrible, everyone knew she was referring to something else. They stilled and looked down at Belle, even Myrtle and Lewis.
There was, they saw, blood pooling between her legs.
“She’s pregnant,” the witch said urgently into the phone. “And she’s bleeding between her legs.”
Lewis turned and pushed his sister through the wall.
“Lewis!” Myrtle shouted, fighting his push but he was determined and he kept hold of her, darting through the ceiling to their turret.
He still held her when they arrived at their window.
“Lewis! I want to be sure Belle is all right!”
“Myrtle, we can’t be there,” Lewis said softly.
“But –!”
“We’re ghosts Myrtle. Don’t you think they have enough to worry about without two ghosts hanging around?”
She snapped her mouth shut.
Then she burst into tears.
Lewis pulled her deeper into his arms.
“I want her to be all right, Lewis! She has to be all right! She’s sweet! She’s Belle!” Myrtle cried into his boyish chest.
He stroked her hair.
“She’ll be all right,” he lied.
It was a lie because he feared she wouldn’t.
The bad man was there.
How he was there, Lewis didn’t know.
He hadn’t been there for over two hundred years.
Or, at least, Lewis had never seen him, never sensed him.
But he’d pushed Belle down the stairs. Lewis saw him do it.
Myrtle’s head tilted back, non-existent tears the colour of pearls still sliding down her cheeks.
Her voice was quivering when she asked, “You promise she’ll be all right?”
He nodded solemnly and, even though it was against the rules, Lewis lied yet again, “I promise, Myrtie Mine.”
Myrtle pressed her cheek against her brother’s chest.
And Lewis closed his eyes tight, trying to shut out his fear for Belle and his terror of the bad man so he could think about what he needed to do to keep himself, his sister, and Belle (if she was all right) safe.
He held Myrtle a long time.
But he didn’t come up with any answers.
* * * * *
Belle
Belle opened her eyes and she knew immediately she was in a hospital room.
She didn’t hurt.
She didn’t feel anything.
But groggy.
Her eyes focussed and she saw Jack sitting by her hospital bed illuminated by the soft glow from the lamp on the nightstand.
His mouth was tight, his face was hard but his eyes were gentle.
She remembered what happened and whispered, “The baby?”
He leaned forward instantly and in that instant, his expression changed and she saw the pain slash through his features.
And she knew.
She closed her eyes.
“Poppet,” he called and she felt him take her hand.
She turned her head and pulled her hand away.
“Belle, love.”
“Go away,” she whispered, still groggy but now feeling something.
And that something Belle felt was empty.
His hand came to her jaw but he didn’t force her to look at him.
She felt his thumb drift over her cheekbone, slowly, softly.
Then his hand disappeared and, from behind her closed eyelids, she saw the light go out.
She thought he’d leave.
She wanted him to leave.
But instead, she felt her hand taken in his again and his grip went firm when she tried to pull away.
She didn’t have the energy to fight it.
So she kept her face averted and her eyes closed as he held her hand.
Later, she felt his forehead come to rest on their joined hands.
That was when the tears seeped out from between her closed eyes.
Chapter Seventeen
Jack’s Sunday
Jack
Jack woke and the minute he did he knew Belle, who was tucked in the curve of his body, was also awake.
She was always awake before him. And always, for some reason only known to Belle, she lay in bed until he woke.
His arm resting at her waist got tight and her body went stiff in response.
He always pulled her closer when he woke. And always, for some reason only known to Belle, she grew stiff when he did.
He closed his eyes with frustration.
He knew what the morning would bring and what the day would bring. It had been three and a half weeks since the accident and every day was the same.
Belle had had a concussion, a sprained wrist, some intense bruising and she’d lost their child.
Considering the staircase was made of stone and it was a long drop, the doctor told them they’d been “lucky”.
And Jack felt lucky.
She could have broken her neck, broken her back or her head injury could have caused brain damage.
None of this happened.
She was alive and breathing and was released from hospital within a few days.
For this, regardless of the crushing loss they’d endured, Jack felt lucky.
Belle, on the other hand, it was overwhelmingly safe to say, did not feel lucky.
During her short hospital stay, she had been far more quiet than normal, her moments of silent contemplation far more frequent and far longer and, for the first time, Jack did not enjoy them.
Indeed, these moments were so frequent and so long, if she wasn’t having one, she was sleeping.
Jack allowed this. She had told him when she did this she was trying not to think and he hoped, in this instance, she was successful.
When Jack, in his Jag, and Rachel and Lila, in Belle’s car, went to collect her when she was released, Belle’s game began.
There were no photographers mainly because the first night Jack was there, after sitting with Belle until she woke and remaining with her until her quiet tears subsided and she’d fallen asleep, he’d demanded a first thing in the morning meeting with the hospital CEO. When he had that meeting, he told the CEO if that first word was breathed about Belle being an inpatient, why she was and what she’d lost, Jack would stop at nothing until he’d closed the hospital down and the CEO, personally, would never work again.
The CEO believed him but he wasn’t hard to believe. Jack meant what he said and everything about the way he said it screamed it.
Therefore, they had thankfully not had that additional worry.
After she was released, when they were at the backdoors where the cars were parked, Belle started toward the Peugeot.
“Belle, honeypot, you’re riding with Jack,” Rachel had said gently.
Without looking at her mother or Jack or anything but the pavement, Belle replied softly, “I want to go to the cottage.”
Lila got close to her granddaughter, “Belle, my sweet –” but Jack interrupted her.
“Take her to the cottage.”
Both Lila and Rachel’s eyes flashed to him and he saw Belle’s body grow tight. He nodded to her mother and grandmother, they both gave him intense looks but they didn’t demur and helped Belle into the car.
He watched them drive away then he got into his Jag and drove to The Point.
Once there, he found his mother, told her to pack whatever Belle needed and then he went to the kitchen and told Elaine to pack what the dogs would need for an extended stay at the cottage.
Then, in his and Belle’s room, beside his mother, he packed what he would need for an extended stay.
All of this he put in the boot, he called the dogs and loaded them up and he drove into town.
He had a suitcase in each hand and a dog at each heel whe
n he opened the door to Belle’s cottage.
Lila stood at the head of the stairs as he walked up.
He dropped the suitcases on the landing as the dogs nosed around the small house.
Without first offering her a greeting, Jack said, “I’ll need keys and someone should go to the grocery store.”
“I’ll go to the store,” Rachel, who had appeared in the back hall, offered immediately and bustled into the kitchen.
“I’ll find keys,” Lila murmured and she bustled into the kitchen too.
Jack went to Belle’s bedroom.
She was lying on her side on top of the covers, her hands in prayer position under her cheek, her right wrist wrapped in a bandage, her eyes were open.
She lifted her head when he entered then, without any further reaction, her head dropped back down on her hands.
This didn’t faze him. After being treated to days of this kind of behaviour while she was in hospital, Jack was used to it.
However, this time, as she was not in a narrow hospital bed having just fallen down the stairs, he took off his shoes. At the same time Gretl and Baron came in and started nosing at the side of the bed for Belle’s attention.
She reached her left hand out and stroked each dog alternately.
Jack joined her in bed, being careful as he knew she was stiff and sore and he settled behind her.
She stopped stroking and went still.
“Jack –” she whispered.
He cut her off as his arm slid around her waist, “Quiet, love.”
“I think –”
“Quiet.”
“We shouldn’t –”
He carefully pulled her into his body. “Belle, I said quiet.”
She kept her body stiff but whispered, “Okay.”
She resumed stroking his dogs’ heads until they settled in, lying by the bed.
And Jack held her until she fell asleep.
Then he cautiously left the bed and went back out to the car to collect the things he hadn’t been able to carry when he arrived.
As he filled the dogs’ bowls with water and food and set them in the kitchen, Lila came in.
“She’s still asleep,” Lila whispered. “I’ve closed the door.”
Jack nodded.
Lila studied him, her eyes soft. “Are you okay?”
His reply was instant and honest, “No.”
He watched as she closed her eyes and he felt his gut get tight at witnessing the pain in stark relief as it settled on her features.
Lucky Stars Page 32