by Unknown
It was like being transported back to an earlier and more robust century, Chrissie recognised, as all her senses were assailed by the sights, sounds and smells of a Victorian fair in progress.
Street musicians in costume played cheerful tunes; acrobats and a clever pickpocket were entertaining the crowd with their antics; on a stage elevated safely above the visitors, a fire-eater performed feats of dar-ing. A pieman sang out his wares whilst a very convincing Gypsy woman with two highly enthusiastic children at her side, all in traditional costume and all, Chrissie suspected from their features, members of Guy's extended family, 'hawked' lucky pieces of heather, which Chrissie realised they were actually giving away.
Everything that could be done to create the authen-tic flavour of a bygone age had been done and Chrissie could only stand and marvel at the colourful and picturesque sight in front. 'Is Guy responsible for all of this...?' she asked Laura wonderingly.
'I'm afraid so,' Laura responded dryly. 'He loves it, you know. Oh, he pretends not to...claiming that all these extras are necessary if you want to pull the crowds in, but secretly...' She shook her head and laughed. 'At Christmas he always organises a family event. I don't really know what to call it. It's a sort of play, only everyone gets involved and we all have to get dressed up and there's no audience, only every one of us hamming it up and acting out the roles Guy's given us.'
'It sounds wonderful,' Chrissie told her and meant it. Suddenly the light went out of her eyes when she realised that her child would never be able to take part in such festivities, that her child would never know the fun and pleasure that went with being part of such a large and extended family group.
As she looked round, a stall selling art deco jewellery caught her eye. It was one of her mother's pas-sions and instinctively Chrissie began to walk towards it.
Across from the stall, a flat waggon pulled by a large shire-horse was having beer barrels unloaded from it. Chrissie heard the warning shout but didn't realise what had happened until a child screamed and she saw the heavy barrel that had broken free from the load was rolling straight towards her.
For some reason, instead of moving she discovered she could only stand there transfixed, paralysed, her heart pounding with fear, the ominous rumble of the barrel accentuated by the dull roaring she could hear in her ears.
'Chrissie!' She heard Guy's voice and turned instinctively to look for him, only to see him running through the crowd towards her, his face set with tension.
'Guy,' she whispered, then her knees suddenly started to buckle beneath her and the whole world turned dark.
Groggily Chrissie opened her eyes. She was lying on something soft and warm. Warily she turned her head.
A man's jacket...a man's jacket that smelled disturbingly familiar.
'Guy...' She tried to sit up and was instantly, gently, restrained.
'It's all right... every thing's all right,' she heard Guy saying quietly. 'You fainted.'
'What happened...?' Dizzily Chrissie put her hand to her head. She had a vivid memory of a child screaming and a barrel... She started to shudder and cried out, 'My baby!'
'Your baby's fine,' she heard a different voice telling her.
'This is Dr Miles,' Guy informed her, introducing the fair-haired young man kneeling on the grass beside her. They were outside the stable yard in what looked very much like a private garden, Chrissie recognised as she tried to study her surroundings—not a particularly easy task from a supine position.
'The barrel...?' she questioned fearfully. But the doctor was shaking his head firmly.
'Guy reached you before it did—fortunately,' he assured her. 'Either the shock of seeing it, or the heat, combined with your pregnancy, caused you to faint, but from what I can tell both you and your baby are perfectly well, although it might be an idea to make an appointment to see your own doctor, especially if you're going to make a habit of passing out,' he teased her.
'Where's Laura?' Chrissie asked, still not fully able to take in everything that had happened.
'She's gone to get us all a cup of tea,' the doctor told her matter-of-factly, turning away from Chrissie after warning her to take her time before she tried to sit up. 'Now I'd better take a look at that arm,' he said quietly to Guy. 'Your tetanus injections are up to date, I hope?'
'As luck would have it, yes, they are,' Chrissie heard Guy affirming ruefully.
Because the doctor had moved in between her and Guy, she was unable to see just exactly what was wrong with Guy's arm, but she could hear him wince and draw his breath as the doctor examined him.
'Mmm...it's quite a deep gash and it's going to need stitching,' she heard him say. 'I'll clean it up as best I can and put a dressing on it but I'd like you to pop into the out-patients' department as soon as you can so they can check it over properly and stitch it for you.'
'Easier said than done,' Guy responded, shaking his head. 'I simply can't leave here until we close the fair down for the day, which won't be until this evening.
I have a moral obligation to the exhibitors to be here and a legal one to Lord Astlegh who, as you very well know, only agreed to allow us to have the fair here on the understanding that I would take personal responsibility for its good conduct.'
'Oh yes, and I'm sure he'd want you to die of gan-grene rather than break your word,' Laura said sar-castically, having just returned with the tea.
'Gangrene...' Only Chrissie could hear the wobble of fear in her voice as she repeated the word under her breath.
Wearily Chrissie closed her eyes. Her head was aching and she felt very queasy, but for once not because of her pregnancy. No, this time her nausea had a rather different cause.
Guy had saved her from being hit by the runaway barrel and in doing so had sustained injuries himself.
'Look, I'm sure Jenny won't mind standing in for you so that you can go to hospital,' Laura was saying to Guy. 'You could ring her now and then I can drive you both there. 'Where is your mobile?'
'I left it at the unit,' Guy told Laura. 'I'll go and get it.'
'You're not going anywhere,' she retorted. I shall go and get it. You stay here with Chrissie.'
'I'd better get back to the first-aid station,' the doctor was saying as he repacked and then closed his medical case.
Chrissie waited until they had both gone before telling Guy in a low voice, 'I haven't thanked you yet for...for what you did. That barrel...'
'I didn't do anything that any other man wouldn't have done,' Guy told her tersely. 'And if it had hit you, it would have been my fault. After all, I'm responsible for the safety aspects of the fair.'
'It was an accident,' Chrissie told him quietly, but even though she knew it was the truth, she couldn't help shuddering as she realised what could have happened if the barrel had hit her. Instinctively she wrapped her arms protectively around her stomach, causing Guy to go even paler than he already was.
'My God, what if it...where's the doctor...are you...?' he demanded hoarsely.
'I'm fine...I'm fine, Guy.' She reached out to restrain him when she saw him turning away as though he intended to go after the young doctor and drag him back by force if necessary. 'Really,' she insisted.
'I was only thinking about what might have happened if I if you... It's funny, isn't it? A few days ago the thought of being pregnant, of having a child, was the furthest thing from my mind. Yet now the thought of anything happening to the baby...' She bit her lip, unable to go on.
'Don't you think I feel exactly the same way?'
The harshness in Guy's voice startled her.
'It isn't the same for a man,' she denied, trying to ignore the unwary response of her emotions to his words.
'No...? That's all you know,' he returned bitterly, adding in a low growl, 'Just what the hell do you think it does to me, knowing that you and our child could have been hurt and that I couldn't have done a damn thing to protect the both of you?'
'But you did,' Chrissie reminded him rather breathlessly, d
esperately wanting to change the subject to something less emotive before he realised the effect his words were having on her.
It was completely ridiculous for her to feel so...for her to wish...for her to want to reach out and touch him comfortingly. After all, why should she care about his pain? Why should she care about him?
She turned her head to look at him, then froze as she saw the huge livid bruise on his forehead and the dark bloodstain on the ripped sleeve of his shirt.
The sight of Guy's blood and the knowledge that it had been spilled in saving her produced a startling combination of fear, shock, pain and, yes, even anger that he should dare risk himself when she and their baby needed him so much. It was such a strong feeling and one she hadn't ever experienced before.
Chrissie glanced at the hospital waiting-room clock.
She had been given the all-clear and was now waiting for the doctor to finish stitching up Guy's wound.
Laura had disappeared to chat with an old friend whom she'd caught sight of in the corridor.
The waiting-room door opened and Chrissie could feel her face starting to burn with hot colour as Guy walked in.
'Is everything...are you all right?' she asked him awkwardly.
'It seems so. They fished a couple of splinters out of my arm but they seem pretty sure there aren't any more,' he told her cheerfully. 'Chrissie,' he announced in a very different and far more serious voice whilst Chrissie tensed, wondering what he was about to say. 'Couldn't we try again...start again?' she heard Guy asking her in a husky voice. He waved his good arm in her direction and added rawly, 'Today earlier...thinking, fearing... Don't we owe it to our child, son or daughter, to at least show him we cared enough for us both to be there for him?'
'Yes, I suppose we do,' Chrissie agreed in a small voice.
'We both had the advantage of growing up with two loving parents, as part of a family,' Guy continued, pressing home his advantage. 'I'm not saying that a single parent can't do a damn fine job of raising a child but...'
'I understand what you're saying,' Chrissie breathed, trying hard to swallow the lump of emotion threatening to choke her voice with the tears she dared not let him see her shed.
'But a child...two parents who love one another... who... who respect and value one another and not...'
'I'm sorry I didn't tell you the truth about Charles,'
she told him with quiet dignity. 'I should have done.
I had intended to tell you but...' She gave a small, despairing shrug, willing herself not to give in and grab hold of the emotional lifeline he was throwing her and not just for their baby's sake, either.
This afternoon, lying on the grass listening to the doctor explaining to him that he should have his gashed arm properly attended to, she had known just how deeply and permanently she loved him, but she couldn't allow herself to be swayed by her own emotions, not when she knew... Guy loved Jenny and even if he didn't, there was still the issue of the desk.
'We could make it work,' Guy was telling her.
'Maybe for a while,' she agreed, then forced herself to look him in the eye as she asked him, 'But what if the baby...our baby should look like Uncle Charles? Would you still want the baby then?' she asked him painfully.
Guy had gone white.
'Would you love him if he looked like me?' he countered.
Chrissie closed her eyes. Of course she would...of course she would.
'It wouldn't work, Guy,' she told him wearily.
'There'd always be the issue of the desk between us and the fact that Charlie was my uncle and then...'
She paused and gave a small shrug. 'And I'd always know that I was just a substitute for the woman you really love and that you'd only married me for the sake of our child. I suppose as far as you're concerned, if you can't have Jenny, then anyone...'
She broke off, unable to continue as emotion threatened to silence her voice completely.
'If I can't what? Chrissie!' Guy started to expos-tulate, but the waiting-room door opened at that moment to admit Laura.
Oblivious to the tense atmosphere between them and the look of extreme irritation on Guy's face, she exclaimed, 'Good, you're both ready to leave. If you like, we can drop you off at your house on the way, Guy.'
Cursing under his breath, Guy switched on the bed-side light and reached for the bottle of painkillers the doctor had given him. His arm was throbbing like the devil just as he had been warned it would, but it was not that that had woken him from his shallow sleep.
He had been dreaming about Chrissie and seeing her standing there directly in the path of that damn barrel. It had taken him three seconds of frozen disbelief before he had leaped into action.
He could feel the sweat springing up all over his body. Tiredly he pushed his hand into his hair. The bruise on his temple felt raw and painful and his head ached.
After he had carried Chrissie out of the stable yard, calling to Laura to get the medical officer and whilst he waited to hear how she was...how she was, and not just their baby, he had known that he really didn't care any more that she hadn't told him the truth about Charlie Platt and he didn't even damn well care about the desk, either. In fact, if he could, he'd probably very likely destroy it himself, then there would be no issue over its rightful ownership.
The only thing that made any kind of sense to him right now—that mattered to him right now—was that he loved her and that he would go on loving her for the rest of his life. Somehow or other he had to find a way of convincing her of that fact. Because he was pretty sure that she loved him. No woman could fake the reaction he had seen on her face this afternoon when she realised he had been hurt. No woman would strive so hard to hide her strong emotions the way Chrissie had done at the hospital if she didn't love the perpetrator of them so very deeply. And as for that comment she had made about him loving Jenny!
Tomorrow he would sort it all out. Tomorrow. Now where were those painkillers? He groaned as he reached out for the bottle and in doing so knocked over the bottle of antibiotics the doctor had also given him. Well, he certainly wasn't going to pick them up now. They could stay where they were until morning.
CHAPTER NINE
O n l y by morning Guy was in no state...no state at all to do any such thing.
By morning Guy was both unconscious and fever-ish, tossing uncomfortably in his bed, muttering into the silence of the room, his hair and body soaked with perspiration whilst under the dressing the hospital had put on his wound his arm had swollen to almost twice its original size and was pulsing with the pain generated by the poison that was slowly spreading in a dark red line up his arm towards his armpit.
'Hello, Jon, you look a bit frazzled,' Ruth greeted her nephew with a smile as their paths crossed in the square.
'Mmm...just a bit,' Jon agreed. 'I had to do the school run this morning because Jenny had to go to Fitzburgh Place to stand in for Guy again. He was supposed to be there at eight apparently, but he hasn't turned up and Jen couldn't raise him on the phone.
Maybe they kept him in hospital overnight.'
'Hospital?' Ruth queried.
'Mmm... There was a bit of an accident at the Antiques Fair yesterday. It seems a barrel broke free from a dray and if Guy hadn't intervened, young Chrissie could have been very seriously injured.'
'Oh dear. Well, I don't think Guy is in hospital,'
Ruth informed him. 'I certainly saw Laura dropping him off at home yesterday. She had Chrissie in the car with her, too. Is there a reconciliation on the cards there, do you think?' Ruth asked her nephew.
Jon looked grave. 'It would be nice to think so but...'
'Lovers do quarrel and make up,' Ruth pointed out.
'Well, yes, and if it was merely a lovers' quarrel, I would agree with you, but there's also the side issue of this desk—Ben's desk according to Guy, but her family's according to Chrissie.'
'Yes, I can see what you mean,' Ruth agreed.
'Look, I'm sorry to have to dash off,' Jon apolog
ised, bending his head to kiss her, 'but I really must go. I've got a client due in ten minutes.'
As she watched him walk away before she had a chance to reply, Ruth hoped that his secretary, a nice woman, would notice that he had a piece of toast sticking out of his jacket pocket.
It was a lovely morning, but as she retraced her steps Ruth's mind wasn't really on the weather. It was such a shame that something so silly as a mere desk—
not even a particularly valuable desk at that—should be keeping two people, so plainly meant to be together as Guy and Chrissie, apart... three people if you counted their baby and Ruth certainly did.
But unfortunately she wasn't Solomon and this problem couldn't be solved by offering, threatening, to cut the desk in two.
In two... Ruth frowned. Something had been tugging irritatingly at the corner of her mind ever since the whole issue of the desk had come up.
'What are you doing here?' Ben demanded tetchily when he saw Ruth.
'I thought I'd come and see how you are,' Ruth informed him, ignoring his scowl. 'Oh, and while I'm here there's something I want to check up on in the library,' she added.
'Oh, and what might that be?' Ben demanded.
'Nothing that would interest you,' Ruth informed him with deliberate vagueness. 'By the way, I've asked Mrs Brookes to bring us a tray of tea.'
'Tea. Bah...can't stand the stuff. It makes my rheu-matism worse,' Ben complained grumpily.
'Really, I've never heard of it having that effect on anyone before,' Ruth replied straight-faced, managing not to point out that the heavy port that Ben enjoyed after his evening meal was far more likely to be the culprit.
However, she noticed that when Mrs Brookes had brought the tea, Ben seemed to enjoy his well enough, although she could tell by the way he moved that he was suffering a great deal of discomfort.
Hopefully once he had had his operation he would be able to move about more easily and he should certainly have less pain, but since she knew he hated to be reminded of it, she wisely said nothing, waiting until they had both had a second cup of tea before announcing that she would just pop into the library before she left.