by Emma Davies
She had no idea how long she had sat there until she became aware of Sam by her side.
‘I came as soon as I got your message,’ he murmured. ‘Where is she, is she okay?’ He grasped Freya’s pale hand, warming it between his own.
‘I don’t know, Sam. I haven’t seen anyone.’ Her eyes began to fill with tears. ‘She looked so poorly…’
Sam pulled her into him, and they sat unspeaking as the minutes stretched out. The door opened several times as people came and went, but nothing changed.
Freya was thinking about Amos. She knew it was daft but she couldn’t help it. He would have known what to say, or what to do, and she missed his gentle words of encouragement and wisdom. He had come into her head a few times over recent months, usually when she’d been out in the fields, or walking the lanes by their house. She had no idea where he had gone, but she knew he would have found his way to somewhere he was needed; that’s the way his life worked. She felt Sam’s warm body around hers, and gave an inward smile as the realisation hit her that it was not Amos she needed at all. Everything she required was deep inside her; the courage to say those things that needed to be said, and to fight for those things she knew to be true. That was the real wisdom that Amos had brought to her, and to Sam.
‘I can’t wait any more Sam. I need to see Merry and Tom. Whatever’s happening we should be there. She’s my oldest friend.’
‘We don’t want to be in the way.’
‘If someone tells me I’m in the way, then I’ll leave, but until then I need to find out what I can. I don’t know if there’s anything we can do, but I’d never forgive myself if there was and we were just sitting here… I’m going to see if anyone has any information.’
The receptionist was tired and busy. A telephone behind her rang incessantly and her colleague, deep in conversation, ignored it. Her smile at Freya was tight, but at the mention of the baby, a flicker of something passed behind her eyes. She’s a mother too, thought Freya; she knows how it feels. She pointed back behind her, motioning through the double doors.
‘There’s another waiting area down the corridor, which leads off the ward. I should wait there if I were you. Someone might be able to help.’
She couldn’t do anymore, Freya knew that. They weren’t family and had no right to any information. She glanced back at Sam, and together they hurried through the doors. The atmosphere here was different, purposeful. There were no bored expressions or resigned faces. Here, everyone was alert and watchful, waiting for the next conversation, the next event which might either take them on the road to recovery or lead them further into an even darker day.
Freya caught sight of Tom almost immediately. He was sitting halfway down the corridor, his back tight against the chair, his pose rigid. He was staring straight ahead, his hands still, cradled in his lap.
His head whipped around the minute he became aware of someone, and a small flicker of disappointment was visible as he realised she wasn’t a doctor. Freya’s heart went out to him, as his look changed to one of gratitude at seeing them, and she wished with all her heart that she could give him more.
He rose as they neared him and reached for Freya just as she reached for him, their hug saying more than the words they struggled to find.
‘I had to come out for a minute,’ said Tom, ‘but Merry. . . someone should be with her.’
‘Where is she Tom?’ asked Freya. ‘I’ll go to her.’
‘Through there,’ he managed, pointing at another doorway. ‘In the middle.’
‘I’ll find her,’ she replied, looking at Sam.
‘Go, on, go. I’ll wait here,’ he answered.
It felt so intrusive, walking past other people in beds, but as she neared the middle of the row of cubicles, she heard Merry’s voice, soft and gentle, and knew she had found them.
A nurse smiled a welcome as she paused by the door, replacing a pen in her top pocket, and Freya felt a slight easing of the tension in the room. The nurse made room for her to pass and in a moment Freya had her arms tightly around Merry.
It took a few minutes before either of them could speak. Freya felt Merry take a deep breath, and pulled away slightly so that she could see her friend’s face. Her cheeks were wet, but although her eyes were still brimming with tears, Freya was relieved to see more than the despair she had expected. A tiny glimmer of hope, perhaps?
‘They think she’s going to be okay, Freya,’ said Merry, in a rush of breath. ‘I was so frightened.’
Freya looked down at the small figure lying on the bed; the baby’s cheeks were flushed, but her breathing was more peaceful as she slept. One arm lay on top of the loose covers, a tube snaking away from it to a drip at one side of the bed. Freya couldn’t imagine how Merry must be feeling and the terror that she must have felt.
‘Is it… is it what we thought?’ she asked, not wanting to say the word out loud.
Merry nodded. ‘They’ve confirmed it’s meningitis, and they’re pumping her full of antibiotics just to be on the safe side, but they won’t know for certain which type it is until the results of the tests come back. We’ve caught it early and there’s no proper rash which is a good thing. They’re pretty certain it’s viral, which isn’t as serious as bacterial…’ Merry trailed off. There was no need for her to say anymore. ‘It all happened so fast. No-one said very much in the ambulance, but the minute we got in here the room was suddenly full of people, sticking needles in her, doing tests. It makes you feel so helpless, just watching… and I wanted to pick her up and cuddle her, but I couldn’t…’
Freya watched as a single tear spilled out onto Merry’s cheek.
‘We might have lost her… we still might.’
‘But you didn’t, and you won’t.’ She pulled Merry close again, stroking the back of her hair, just like she had done so many times in the past. Just like Merry had comforted her all those years ago when she thought she had lost Sam for good.
‘Do you remember what you said to me when you were in labour, Merry?’
Merry lifted her head.
‘You were very eloquent if I remember. Even though you were in pain, you made me promise to listen to you. I thought I’d lost everything that day, first Appleyard, and Sam too, but you told me to fight, to let go of what was making me scared, and breathe through the pain. You said that at the end of it I might find myself with a miracle. Well I got mine that day, Merry, and so did you. A beautiful little girl, born with a snowstorm raging outside, and named after one of the smallest birds there is, but a bird brave enough to see the winter through. She’s got her mum’s fighting spirit, so don’t you dare give up on her.’
Merry inhaled a shaky breath, and pulled away, wiping her eyes.’
‘Who suddenly made you so wise?’ she whispered.
Freya thought for a moment, the answer on the tip of her tongue, but she said nothing, just smiled.
Chapter 14
Cora and Rupert were there to welcome them home two days later. Cora hovered at the edge of the driveway as Tom turned the car in, barely able to contain her excitement, or so it seemed at first. The real reason became apparent as the car came to rest around the back of the house.
Merry stared through the windscreen in blinking disbelief. What more could possibly go wrong? She pushed open the car door, grabbing onto it as the wind fought to tear it from her hands. From the back seat, Robyn slept on peacefully.
Some ten metres in front of her, the space where Merry’s car was parked had completely disappeared, and in its place was tree. Nothing else, just tree, although somewhere, underneath it all she supposed her car was in fact still there. She looked around her, following the line of destruction into the field beside the house, where the enormous roots of the tree had ripped a jagged crater in the soft soil.
‘Don’t look at that now,’ urged Cora, coming round to stand beside Merry and Tom, trying to crane her neck for a better look at Robyn inside the car. ‘It’s worse than it looks, and all under control.’
>
Tom gave her an incredulous stare. ‘How can that possibly be under control?’ he asked, mouth hanging open.
Cora ignored him. ‘Come on, let’s bring the little one inside, I’ve the kettle on for you,’ she replied, trying to shepherd them along.
‘But I’ve only been gone for two hours…’
‘Yes, well, it doesn’t take long for a tree to fall down once it’s a mind to. Come on, in we go.’
Merry looked around her and up at the sky as if she expected another tree to appear from nowhere. She leaned back inside the car to unclip Robyn from her seat and allowed herself to be led inside. Cora shut the door firmly after them.
‘It came down not long after you left for the hospital, Tom, but I’ve called Brian, and he’ll be along shortly. I’m afraid he and his chainsaw are rather in demand today, but he’ll come and see to it for you. I suspect his sons will be along too to lend a hand, so that’s fine.’
‘Cora,’ insisted Tom. ‘We’ve just come home from the hospital to find a ruddy great tree sprawled across our driveway, and if I’m not very much mistaken, Merry’s car will be flattened underneath it. In what way is everything fine?’
‘Are you all right?’ she asked by way of reply. ‘Is Merry? Is the baby, and the house…? Well then, in my book, everything is fine. The car is just a heap of metal that can be replaced. Sit down while I pour the tea, and you can tell me how Robyn is, although I must say she looks chirpy enough now.’
Robyn was indeed chirupping away merrily at Rupert, who as usual had come to sit by her side. Her toes bounced up and down with delight. Merry sighed and accepted the cup of tea with a weary smile.
‘Real tea,’ she said. ‘Thank the lord.’
The last couple of days had been relentless. The sheer panic and terror of not knowing what was happening to Robyn had given way to a listless relief when she was pronounced out of danger. But she was still in a place where Merry had felt unable to reach her, to care for her. It was far from home, and she had felt the pull of Five Penny House keenly. Now she wanted to feel the house around her, to sense its security and comfort and, while she knew she was probably too tired and emotional to think straight, it felt as though this was a place where Robyn could get strong and well again. As the soothing warmth of the tea slipped down, even the devastation of the tree outside seemed an irrelevance. It was fine, Cora had said, and Merry believed her. She let herself sit and be comforted.
‘Thank you, Cora,’ she said as she finished the last of her tea. ‘That was the nicest cup of tea I can ever remember having.’
‘Well that’s because it came with a hefty dose of contentment. It’s good to have you all home again. We’ve missed you,’ she said, laying a hand on Rupert’s head. ‘Especially this fellow. He takes his guard duties very seriously. I think if they’d let him in the hospital, he would have been there like a shot.’ She watched Robyn for a moment, a smile playing across her face. ‘What have the doctors said? Do you know where she picked up the virus?’
Merry was quick to reassure her. ‘It could have been anywhere, but somewhere full of people – the supermarket most likely, and certainly not from being out with you and Rupert.’ She ran a hand through her wind-blown hair. ‘It’s ironic really because she’s not long had her immunisations. She was just unlucky, that’s all.’
‘Or lucky,’ Cora replied.
Merry tipped her head. ‘How so?’
‘That it wasn’t the more serious form of meningitis.’
Cora’s words settled in the room for a moment, as Merry recognised their wayward truth. How strange to be grateful for something so awful, and to feel that even after the horrible time of the last few days there was still something to feel glad about. Everything was relative, that was all.
Tom reached down for the baby’s things. ‘I’ll go and put these back where they belong,’ he said, laying a soft hand on Merry’s head.
As soon as Tom had left the room, Merry turned to Cora.
‘How did Christopher’s wife and daughter die? Please, I want to know.’
Cora’s expression was not quite as shocked as it perhaps should have been. ‘It was a long time ago, Merry. I’m not sure it helps… but I do understand why you asked.’
‘Then will you tell me?’
The minutes of silence stretched between them, as Merry’s eyes flickered back and forth towards the door, waiting for her husband to reappear.
‘You’re quite right in what you feel,’ answered Cora eventually, watching Merry carefully. ‘But if you’ve felt that much then you know that Robyn is in no danger. Christopher Marchmont was one of the nicest men I’ve ever met. In life there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do either for Catherine, or for his wife, Marina … and similarly in death, nothing he wouldn’t do to protect their memory. If you’ve felt his presence, then I’d say it’s only because he’s pleased you’re here.’
‘Nothing like this has ever happened to me before. I sat in the hospital on that first evening, watching Robyn sleep. I felt so peaceful. I felt like I was watching her through somebody else’s eyes, but they were kind eyes, Cora. They cried when I cried, and in the morning when I knew that she would be okay, when I looked in the mirror I saw my own relief, but I saw another’s there too, mirroring my own. All I wanted to do was to get home.’
Cora nodded. ‘And home you most certainly are,’ she smiled. ‘Although it’s unfortunate that the weather chose this particular moment to spring a surprise all of its own.’
‘Do you know, I don’t think I even mind about that too much now. The rain worries me, though. I noticed how high the river was when we drove through the village, and I have friends who run an orchard; this rain will be wreaking havoc with the apple blossom.’
‘Then we must hope that this temporary break brings a welcome respite to all.’ She patted Rupert’s head once more. ‘Now, we must go and leave you three to settle back in. You both need your rest, and on a day like today, it’s the perfect excuse not to venture out very far.’
There was the sound of a door closing in the hallway. ‘You didn’t answer my question, Cora,’ said Merry.
Her smile was immediate. ‘Oh, I think you’ll find I did,’ she replied. ‘Maybe not the one you asked, but most certainly the one you wanted answered.’ She leant over and kissed Merry’s cheek. ‘And one day, a little while from now, I shall tell you more, but today is not the time… Now, you know where I am if you need anything, and if Brian doesn’t appear to sort out your tree, you give me a ring. He’s a good man, but a bit forgetful at times.’
Merry stood to escort Cora to the door. ‘You go safely home now too,’ she said. ‘Get out of this weather yourself.’
‘I have an excellent puzzle to finish, which I’m rather looking forward to,’ she said. ‘So I shall be absolutely fine.’ She had one hand on the handle before she turned back towards Merry. ‘Just one more thing, before I go. It suits you perfectly, but yours is such an unusual name. Is it short for something?’
Of all the things that Cora could have asked her, this was certainly not what Merry had expected. She laughed and pulled a face. ‘It’s Merrilees of all things,’ she said.
‘Of course,’ Cora replied. ‘I rather thought it might be.’
‘There’s not much else it can be I suppose, except perhaps Meredith.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘I still don’t know what on earth possessed my mother to give me such an unusual name. It’s handy at Christmas, but—’
‘Well, my dear,’ interrupted Cora. ‘I know what the name Merrilees means, and like I said… it suits you.’
Merry looked puzzled.
‘Apart from the more obvious joyful, it can also mean someone with a strong will or spirit, even someone with psychic powers. Quite appropriate, don’t you think?’
Chapter 15
Freya bit her lip for the umpteenth time that day. She knew that Sam’s mood was symptomatic of how he was feeling about Stephen’s continuing silence, but even so he was skating perilousl
y close to the wind. She picked up the discarded brochure that lay on the kitchen table and sat down for a moment, flicking through the same pages that Sam’s fingers had lingered over only minutes before. She really didn’t need the thoughtfully turned down corners of the pages to know where Sam had been looking, nor to confirm her suspicions: the guilty look on his face had been enough. The trouble was that Freya wasn’t sure whether it was guilt at daring to think of taking Appleyard in a direction that she didn’t want it to go in, or simply guilt at having been found out. She laid the brochure back down on the table and collected the two mugs that sat there. Ordinarily she would have been quite happy to leave them there until the next cup of tea was due, but today, washing them up gave her the opportunity to stall for time.
It was only a few short months ago that she had sat in this very kitchen and listened to Gavin’s dreams of their future together. A future that didn’t include Appleyard at all, but instead suburban bliss in a two-up, two-down and a tiny garden, thank you very much. She reminded herself that her relationship with her old boyfriend was nothing like the one she now had with Sam. She and Sam were a partnership, and had been since they were small, playing games in the school holidays with their friends long before their relationship was anything other than friendship. Even her old friend Willow had once told her she thought them destined to be a couple. If she thought about it in the level-headed way she should, Freya knew that the complexities of Sam’s relationship with his brother were such that they could never be resolved in just a matter of weeks. The trouble was that today’s conversation had rung the same warning bells in her head that the conversation with Gavin had all those months ago, and Freya didn’t like that one little bit.
It had started out as a perfectly reasoned argument. Decisions needed to be made soon over what equipment to buy if they were ever going to produce anything from the apples that they hoped would soon be growing in abundance. But Freya’s natural inclination towards prudence meant that she found this difficult. Neither did it agree with her independent spirit, one founded out of necessity over the last few years. Everything that they needed to buy seemed to cost such a huge amount of money and, as the conversation progressed, it became increasingly obvious to Freya that money was the one thing that Sam was at pains to dismiss. She knew that in part it was only because he was trying to be generous, to help her bury the fears she’d once had for her future; but the more he talked, the more she heard something in his voice that she didn’t think was Sam at all.