by Lynda Stacey
Kneeling down he looked into Lily’s eyes. ‘Honey, I’m so very sorry, we shouldn’t have come here.’ He paused and looked back up at the house. ‘Your daddy is a crazy, stupid old man. We’ve come a very long way, we’re getting soaked to the skin and I should have never brought us here. Not on this day.’ He looked up at the grey swirling clouds and then heard the rumblings of thunder that echoed overhead. ‘We need to take cover.’ He ushered Lily under a tree.
‘But, what about Jess? You said I had a sister.’ Tears filled Lily’s eyes. ‘Won’t I get to meet her now? Won’t we get to go inside the castle?’ Her shoulders slumped. ‘And, Daddy, you’re not so very old or so very stupid, but my feet do hurt.’ She lifted her foot to show a hole in the sole of her shoe.
Bastion shook his head and looked down at his beautiful girl. ‘Oh, Lily.’ He shook his head, he knew he didn’t have enough money for shoes. He leaned on the tree for support. ‘Your sister, Jess, she doesn’t know who we are, princess. She’s never met me.’
Lily looked confused. ‘But how come, Daddy? How come she never met you? Aren’t you her daddy too?’
It was obvious to Bastion that Lily didn’t understand why Jess wouldn’t know him. To her a daddy was someone who was always there, someone who looked out for you, bathed you, dressed you and fed you. He was also someone who should buy your shoes and he pursed his lips, furious that he’d failed her. He tried to think of a way to explain, to tell her what had happened and why Jess had never met him, just as the front door opened and a beautiful dark skinned, voluptuous woman stepped out. She was dressed in black, but was wearing a brightly coloured apron with a green, yellow and black Jamaican flag on the front. Bastion not only approved, but he stood spellbound watching as with broom in hand she swept the damp leaves away from the entrance to the Hall and then turned to the hanging baskets and pulled one or two dead heads from the winter pansies. She stood in the rain, not seeming to care that she was getting wet, and stared out over the fields. But then she turned, caught his eye and her face lit up with the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen.
‘Good day to you, sir. Can I help you?’ she sang out as she walked towards them. ‘And you, little one, aren’t you the most beautiful little thing.’
The words made Lily beam and Bastion held out a hand to the woman. ‘I’m Bastion Collymore,’ he said, hoping that the name might mean something, but the woman just shook his hand and continued to smile.
‘And I’m Nomsa, I’m very pleased to meet you.’ Her eyes sparkled and Bastion loved the way her whole face lit up. ‘I work here. But I’m so sorry, if you’re looking for a room for the night, we can’t accommodate you.’ She sighed. ‘We’ve had a death in the family and all the family and most of the staff are at the funeral today, including the receptionist.’ Nomsa wiped away a tear.
‘Daddy.’ Lily pulled at his coat. ‘Did … did our Jess die?’ The tiny voice came from a worried Lily and Bastion turned quickly, wishing she hadn’t spoken. He glanced back up at Nomsa, knowing he’d have to explain. But then he began to cough, and leaned against the tree, looking up apologetically.
‘Oh no, darling, Jess didn’t die,’ Nomsa said. ‘No, Jess is fine. You should have said you were friends of hers.’ She looked at Bastion with concern. ‘And if you don’t mind me saying so, you don’t sound so very well. You’re soaked and look like you need a sit down.’ She put a hand out to steady him. ‘Come on, let’s get you in the house, you need to get dry and I’ll put the kettle on.’
Bastion was unnerved, he didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to explain why he was here. He picked up the bag that he’d dropped while coughing. ‘No, no. I really don’t want to intrude, not on such a day. We’ll be on our way. Come on, Lily.’
Lily let go of his hand. ‘But, Daddy,’ she shouted. ‘We came such a long way to see Jess and I want to see her, you promised.’
‘Lily, today is not the day. Now, come on, be a good girl, follow your daddy.’
‘Oh no you don’t,’ Nomsa said as she patted Lily’s shoulder. ‘You are not well, you’re soaked and, by the sound of it, you’ve come a long way. The least I can do for a friend of Jess’s is give them a cup of tea. Besides, the family won’t be back for a good hour. By then, we could have you both dry.’ Nomsa took the bag from his hand and marched back towards the Hall. ‘Come on, I’ve made my best fruit scones for when the family get home from the funeral. I’m sure you’d like one,’ she said, looking at Lily, ‘wouldn’t you?’
Chapter Seven
Thunder began to echo through the sky as the rain fell in torrents onto the already saturated ground. Puddles turned themselves into miniature ponds and a small group of mourners protected by umbrellas stood by the open grave trying to avoid them, whilst the priest carried on with his sermon, regardless of the weather.
Jess shuddered. She was both heartbroken and terrified. She held tightly onto Jack’s arm and cowered each time the thunder boomed above their heads, making her repeatedly look up at the swirling black clouds that hovered above her and filled almost every inch of the blackened sky. It was a sight that made her close her eyes, and she felt thankful that for some reason there was no lightning, either before or after the thunder. Ironically, it seemed quite fitting that Emily Ennis would leave this earth during a loud and fearful storm. She’d been the calmest and most peaceful person who had ever lived, spending most of her life doing her best to keep others happy and avoiding any kind of angst.
Jess took a step backwards. Her shoes sank into the mud, her feet were wet and she stumbled, dropped her umbrella and looked around in a daze as she felt someone push it back into her hand. She felt numb, her mind was swimming in what felt like a thick and indescribable mud and nothing felt real. Nothing, except that Jack was there, right by her side, just as he had been for the past two weeks, holding her up, protecting her and saving her from falling or feeling alone.
She felt Jack’s body heave with grief and she immediately pulled herself into his frame, wanting to feel close and warm. Her hand went protectively to her stomach. She’d been keeping a secret of her own and she closed her eyes, knowing deep down that she’d never be alone again, not once the baby was born. But Jack still didn’t know he was about to become a father.
Jess had told Emily about the pregnancy a few days before she’d died. Jess knew how much Emily had loved her own child and had hoped that the announcement of new life would make her happy. And it had. Emily’s health had picked up, she’d eaten, she’d even walked down to the kitchen and had drank coffee at the kitchen table, just like she had the year before. The very morning she’d died she’d been sitting in the garden. It had been one of the warmer days and she’d commented on how she looked forward to the summer when they’d sit out there with the pram, sipping lemonade.
Jess still hadn’t told anyone else and now with all that had happened, it seemed wrong to celebrate a new life, while grieving for the loss of another. To announce the news at this time would be indelicate and Jess decided to wait a few days before she told the others, deciding she might even wait until Christmas. It would only be ten days until they would stand in the gardens, with the Christmas tree all lit up. The villagers would arrive, along with local school children of all ages, and they’d sing carols, say prayers, and afterwards they’d eat together, as a family. Just as they had the year before.
She felt Jack’s arms surround her. He kissed her forehead and Jess closed her eyes, wishing that she were anywhere else in the world other than here. Only to open them moments later to realise that she was still standing by the graveside, Emily had still lost her battle for life, and they were still there to say a final goodbye.
Nothing had changed. And after all, why would it?
She looked to the head of the grave where her sister Madeleine stood, holding onto Bandit, her fiancé, a man normally strong and brave, but who today unashamedly allowed the tears to roll down his face as he mourned his grandmother. She was the grandmother he’d only j
ust got to know, a woman who he’d come to love through the diary that he and Maddie had found, only to realise that she’d been so much closer than he’d ever imagined, living alongside his father in a nursing home. And, just a year before, he’d brought them both back to live at Wrea Head Hall, and back to the home where they belonged.
Jess tried to suck at the air, she felt the need to fill her lungs but couldn’t, and she found herself taking short sharp gasps as she tried to concentrate on the priest who stood beside Bandit. His words became lost and distant, as her foot once again slipped in the mud, making her squeal and grab at Jack to steady herself. She then stood with her eyes tightly squeezed together, praying, as terror began to fill her mind; it occurred to her how easy it would be for either her or one of the other mourners to lose their footing completely and drop down into the depths of the grave, like Alice falling down the endless rabbit hole and into a world where she had no control.
Jess felt herself begin to shake uncontrollably. She pulled her coat tightly around her body, turned away, and pulled Jack with her. A sob left her throat and the tears that she’d held onto for so many days began to fall. She once again turned to Jack. His arms encircled her and again, he pulled her into the warmth of his body like he’d done on so many occasions before. It was a feeling of safety and security. A feeling she didn’t think she could live without and she had no idea what she’d have done over the past year without him.
‘Jack, please, I really need to go,’ Jess whispered as she noticed people begin to move slowly around the grave. She presumed that the priest must have said his final words as she watched both Maddie and Bandit walk gingerly over the AstroTurf to the head of the grave, where they both picked up a handful of soil. It was soil that had now turned into mud and as they threw it down onto the coffin, it landed with an eerie thud, making Jess recoil and take yet another step away from the grave.
She swallowed hard and watched as Bandit returned to where his father’s wheelchair stood. He wiped his hands on a cloth before gripping the wheelchair’s handles and forcibly pushing it through the sodden ground and to the head of the grave, so that his father, Arthur, could pay his own respects. Bandit picked up another handful of dirt, took control of his father’s hand and helped him to throw the soil. But the look on Arthur’s face told Jess that he had no idea of what he’d just done, or why, and it occurred to her that he too battled daily just to live and that in the not too distant future Bandit could find himself back here, at this same grave, burying his father alongside Emily, just as she’d planned.
‘Why, Jack? Why do we discard people this way?’ She thought about death, of how close she’d been just a year before and of how we loved a person in life, cherished them, protected them, but then once the life had gone, we put them in a box, nailed down the lid and tossed them in the ground, alone, to rot. It seemed wrong, and cruel.
She thought of her niece, Poppy, who was just four years old and wondered how on earth her sister Madeleine had managed to explain the death of Emily to her. Of course, Poppy had known death before, they’d been surrounded by it, but she’d been far too young the year before to fully understand what it had meant. Now she asked far too many questions and persisted until she got the answers to questions that most of the adults around her didn’t comprehend themselves.
Jess continued to take in the short, sharp breaths. She passed Jack the long stemmed rose she’d carefully held in one of her hands. ‘Throw it for me,’ she insisted as once again she took a step back. ‘I … I can’t do it,’ she said and she momentarily let go of his hand, watched as he stepped forward and threw the rose down onto the coffin and then returned to her side, where she grabbed onto his hand again and pulled him past the many gravestones. She’d seen enough, grieved too much. She walked back to the path and to the car, where she waited until Madeleine came towards her. She and Maddie caught each other’s eye, a silent, knowing stare that said nothing, but meant everything. They both climbed into the back seat of the limousine, along with Jack, and waited while Bandit attended to his father, ensuring he was seated in the front seat of the car, before folding the wheelchair and passing it to the funeral director, who took it from him to store in the boot.
The funeral car stood for what seemed like an age with its engine purring. The windows steamed up and the air in the car became more and more humid. Jess held her head in her hands. She felt dizzy, and nauseous. It was a feeling that hadn’t left her for the past few weeks, but today it was worse. Her head spun, her stomach cramped and she continued to take in short, sharp gulps of air. She needed to escape, to get out of the car and she looked around to see if anyone would notice if she ran. But her eyes fell upon the two men who now worked at the graveside, dressed in black. Both held spades and, due to the weather, they wasted no time before they began shovelling mud into the grave, where a loud thudding could be heard as it landed heavily on top of the coffin. The sudden realisation of death hit her. Emily was in that box. The same Emily who used to have her chair placed right in the middle of the lawn because she loved being in the open air. The same Emily who’d sat out there right through the year, even when it was cold and had slept all year round with the bedroom window wide open because she hadn’t wanted to be cooped up in the house. She’d insisted on walking to the woods and back every single day just to touch the trees, even though her legs were not as capable as they’d once been. A deep sob left Jess’s throat as she realised that Emily was in the box and about to be buried in the ground, forever, and that she would never be seen again.
Suddenly the air left her lungs. For her, Emily’s death was one death too many. It was as though everyone she knew, everyone she loved had been taken away far too soon. She could no longer breathe and inhaled without success. The more she tried to breathe, the harder it got and a feeling of claustrophobia surrounded her like a thick, grey fog. Her hands went to her throat before she waved them around wildly, grabbing at the door. She scrambled to wind the window down, her finger punching at the button and she felt Jack take her hand in his.
‘It’s okay. Jess, Jess, please … Listen to me. You’re fine.’ Jack helped her open the window and she leaned out, allowing the wind to blow through her hair. She gasped for breath as the car set off through the village and climbed the hill towards the Hall. ‘That’s it, take deep breaths. We’re nearly home.’ Jack’s voice was calm and Jess did as she was told as she squeezed the air into her lungs. ‘There you go. Come on, sit back. You’re safe. I’ve got you.’
Jess felt Jack pull her back into a sitting position, just as they turned into the driveway, past the gatehouse where Madeleine and Bandit lived with Bandit’s father, and followed the lane until the Hall came into view.
‘Deep, deep breaths, that’s the way.’
Jess turned to her sister. ‘Maddie, I … I … I can’t breathe! Please. Stop … stop the car. Tell them … tell them I need to get out.’ Jess continued to gasp for breath, and counted the seconds until the car came to a halt, before throwing open the door and jumping out. Her head was in her hands; her knees felt weak and she stumbled to the Hall’s entrance, where she leaned against the stone arched doorway, her face hidden against her arm, while dragging air into her lungs. And then, as always, Jack was beside her, pulling her into his arms, supporting her and stopping her from falling to the ground. A ground that suddenly felt so very, very far away.
There was a noise. There was the sound of footsteps that made her turn. Then there was a man, a man who came from within the Hall. He stood before her, his hand reaching out and landing on her shoulder, making her look up into his deep, pitch black eyes and for a moment they stared at one another without speaking. A brief moment of recollection crossed her mind, making Jess wonder where she’d seen him before. But then she watched in horror as the man’s eyes flickered, and he collapsed in a heap on the stone steps before her, making her scream.
‘Arrrgghhh … Daddy …’ The second scream came from a child. A small girl, who now knelt on t
he floor beside the man. ‘Daddy. Please … help him.’ She pulled at the bottom of Jess’s skirt, as Jess looked between the man, Jack and the funeral car, where both Maddie and Bandit were hurrying towards her.
‘What the hell?’ Bandit moved quickly, checked the man’s pulse and moved him swiftly into the recovery position. ‘Did he hit his head? Get an ambulance. Now.’ He turned to Jack, who’d already set off in the direction of the reception.
‘What shall I say?’ Jack shouted as he ran.
‘You know the drill. Tell them one of the guests has collapsed. His breathing is weak. It isn’t good. Tell them to be quick and then go find Ann or Len, they should be following in one of the funeral cars, ask if they’ll come and identify him.’
The young girl once again tugged at the bottom of Jess’s skirt. ‘You’re Jess, aren’t you?’ she asked, sobbing and looking hopefully at Jess, who was still holding onto the stone archway. ‘Jess … he … he’s not a guest. He’s our daddy. We came to find you.’
Chapter Eight
Jess stood with her arms crossed, as Jack paced up and down the darkened landing before her.
‘What do you mean, you went to the hospital?’ Jess whispered in a growl. ‘Why the hell did you do that?’ She moved across the landing and towards the staircase. ‘He’d just collapsed on our doorstep. The last thing he needed was a full on interrogation, especially by you.’
Jack sighed. ‘All right, all right, I’m sorry. But someone had to find out who he is and what he is up to and right now, you don’t look entirely capable.’ He looked down. ‘I might be being just a little sceptical here, and I know that he said he was your father, but guess what, Jess?’ He pursed his lips. ‘He might not be.’ He lifted his hand, rubbed his eyes and then ran it through his dark overgrown hair. ‘He could be just about anyone.’