by Georgia Rose
“Oh, Emma,” and Grace hugged me to her fiercely. “Are you okay?” I saw Cavendish shaking Trent’s hand and congratulating him, which made me feel happier.
“I’m fine. Nauseous, but fine,” I told her and smiled as she pulled away and held me at arm’s length to inspect me. Hugs followed from all the others and they raised their glasses in another toast. This time I made no pretence; I couldn’t even bear to hold the glass.
Once everyone had settled down again, Trent cleared his throat before getting to the point. “So the problem is…well, why we needed to speak to you is because of the horses. I don’t want Emma to be riding anymore…”
“Ahh,” interrupted Cavendish, “now I understand. That’s why you flew out of the office this morning, because of how I’d just seen Monty behaving with her. Quite right, Trent. We can’t have her riding anymore.”
“I still want to do everything else with the horses as long as I’m fit and well,” I jumped in, clarifying, wanting to make sure of my position.
A discussion followed. It was agreed that for the time being Carlton and Greene would exercise the horses each day, and Cavendish and Grace would take them out whenever they could, and we’d go from there. I was pleased it had been sorted out so simply.
We left the couple to get settled in their new home and walked out with Cavendish and Grace.
“We’re delighted for you both,” said Cavendish as we parted. “Let us know if we can do anything.”
Although I’d known them for a while now, I’d grown closer to both Cavendish and Grace since our wedding, which I supposed was only natural as they were such good friends of Trent’s. Despite their titles and wealth, they were very hands on with the estate work and it hadn’t taken me long to realise that, while Cavendish had inherited the estate, it was Grace who was its heart. We usually had supper with them, or they with us, at least once a week.
It had been at the first of these suppers following our honeymoon that I’d tackled Cavendish about who the guardian angel watching over Grace and the children could be.
At our wedding I’d overheard Cavendish feeding back the highlights of the ballistics report from the night of ‘the incident’ to the boys. As Grace, the children and I had been leaving the yard on the horses our escape route had been blocked by a man with a gun. This man had been killed, right in front of us, with one shot to the head. The main point of interest for me had been in the anomaly – whoever had shot the gunman appeared to have played no further part in the action that evening. He wasn’t one of our people, and, as he’d shot one of them, it didn’t seem as if he was one of the enemy either.
Of course I’m saying he – it could just as well have been a she.
Trent, Cavendish and Grace had all been surprised when I’d raised the question at supper. Grace hadn’t known anything of the report so had to be filled in, and although Trent had filled me in on some of the detail he’d had no idea quite how much I’d overheard.
Cavendish had listened patiently to me and then fixed me with the piercing blue of his eyes for a long moment as if I were an object of some curiosity. The crease between his eyes furrowed deeper as he frowned. He’d told me they had no idea who had taken that shot, and then he’d asked me something rather strange.
“What makes you think it was Grace and the children the guardian angel was watching over?”
I’d had no answer for him then, and had nothing further for him weeks later.
The next day being a Monday, the closest thing I got to a day off, Trent and I went to the doctor’s, managing to get an appointment mid-morning. I duly peed on a stick and had the pregnancy confirmed. Our baby was going to be due at the beginning of May. I was glad it wasn’t April – that would have been far too close to Eva’s birthday and would have felt even more as though I was trying to replace her. Although, of course, I hadn’t been trying. This had just happened, but it didn’t stop me feeling like that.
The doctor – a woman, frizzy redhead, probably early forties, wedding ring, a picture of two gap-toothed grinning children on her desk – asked questions. She had a list of everything to cover and set about it in an organised fashion, but she hadn’t looked at my history. The question ‘Was this my first pregnancy?’ was close to the top, and I saw her pencil hovering over the ‘Yes’ box.
Trent took my hand as I told her about Eva. She put the pencil down, pushing the efficiency to one side as her bedside manner came out in all its empathy. As we went through the rest of the questions she was kind and thoughtful.
I didn’t want to join in with any of the local groups for ‘expectant’ or ‘just had’ mums. Those groups had never been my thing anyway, and I didn’t want to start explaining my situation to strangers. People always ask “Is this your first?” and I know they’d mean well, but I couldn’t answer without it being awkward, both for them and for me. The easiest thing was to answer yes, but it hurt to deny Eva’s existence. If I said no then more questions would follow, and I’d seen the frozen expression on people’s faces before when they’d found out that I’d had a child, but she’d died. It was much easier to stick to those on the estate who at least knew me, although even there not many knew about Eva. Something else I’d have to face up to.
We left the doctor’s and went home. My nausea was already building and I chose to eat cheese and crackers for lunch, wanting something dry and plain. I napped that afternoon, getting the horses in later, and by then I was extraordinarily exhausted, despite the fact I’d done precious little that day. I managed to eat plain boiled pasta for dinner. Trent added a bolognaise sauce to his, which he tried to add to mine as well, but I knew I wouldn’t keep it down.
I was the same for the rest of the week, and I knew my feeling as ill as this, coupled with the fact that everyone was going to wonder why Carlton and Greene were doing the riding, meant I was going to have to tell the others on the estate much earlier than I’d anticipated. So the following Monday morning I arrived in the kitchens at the Manor at coffee break time – it was my best opportunity. I’d told Grace and Greene what I was going to do, and both had confirmed they would be there. Trent had asked if I wanted him to go, but I said no. I was hoping only a few would be present so I could tell them, and then the news would disseminate across the estate without me having to say another word.
Mrs F was delighted to see me and hustled me into a seat next to Bray while she poured out coffees for us all. As she pushed a mug across the table I pulled back, knowing if I caught even the slightest aroma of coffee in the steam that rose from the cup it would kick off today’s nausea. She looked at me curiously, but I ignored her, then felt a little flustered as I saw Grace raise an eyebrow at me across the table. Greene came over and sat on the other side of me to Bray, giving me a brief smile. Young and Burton were sitting opposite, deep in conversation, but West was away on some radio training course.
Bray asked how I was and I replied quietly that I was fine but I was pretty certain Mrs F and Bray knew something was up.
“We don’t often get to see you at this time,” she said, trying to continue the conversation, but it felt stilted, like she was probing for information and I knew I needed to get on with spitting out what I’d come to say. I could have asked Grace or Greene to spread the news, but these people were my friends and that felt like the coward’s way out. Also no one would have been able to speak to me or ask any questions that way, so I’d thought it had to be done like this.
“No…actually there’s something I need to tell you all.” I was speaking to Bray, but then cleared my throat and turned to face the others round the table. I repeated, “There’s something I need to say,” then hesitated, feeling awkward about how to tell them. “Two things, actually…well, Grace and Greene already know…” I floundered, feeling Greene’s hand come across and close around my arm, giving me strength. I glanced at her thankfully before finally getting to the point. “But…um…the first is that I’m pregnant.”
I heard a little gasp of deli
ght from Bray next to me, and Mrs F’s face lit up as her hands covered her mouth.
“Oh, that’s wonderful,” she enthused, reaching to wrap me in a hug as I stood to receive it, “I’m so thrilled for you.” As I pulled back from her I saw her eyes shining with a level of emotion I hadn’t expected.
Bray grabbed my attention then as she too hugged me, saying, “I knew there was something going on. Congratulations.” The other girls were equally enthusiastic and the questions flowed. When was the baby due? How was I feeling? How long had I known?
Gradually things settled and I pushed my mug of coffee away, no pretence needed now. That was the good part over.
“What’s the second thing then?” Burton asked. “Oh, don’t tell me the gorgeous Trent has given you twins!”
Everyone laughed, and I grinned as I replied, “Now that thought hadn’t crossed my mind and I hope not, but it’ll be a few weeks before we have a scan.” My smile faded, my head dropped and I clenched my teeth together.
I heard Grace’s voice. “Go on,” she urged. I could feel the atmosphere around me change as everyone cottoned on to the fact that what was about to follow was not going to be good.
I looked over at her. “I don’t want things to change. I don’t want everyone to look at me differently.” One tear ran down my cheek, which I wiped away.
“They won’t, Emma,” Greene added. “You’re among friends here. We know you and we know you’re strong. You can do this.”
Bray took my hand. “What is it, love?” I knew she had children, grown up now, off doing their own thing. She would understand, I knew that. But it didn’t make it any easier. I took in a deep breath and blew it out slowly. I hadn’t thought I’d get so upset again, but it was always the having to say it out loud that got to me.
“Okay.” I steadied myself, focusing my gaze for a moment on a dark knot in the scrubbed pine table before looking up and around at those now watching me intently. “I want to tell you all this because I don’t want to deny my memories any longer. This will not be my first child. I had a daughter with Alex.” My voice cracked as I carried on, “Her name was Eva and she died from an illness when she was six.”
“Oh, Emma.” Bray wrapped her arms around me, hugging me to her tightly; her shoulder blotted the tears that had run down my face, and when we separated we both wiped our eyes. I was a little embarrassed at the display of emotion and trying to lighten the mood smiled a smile as bright as I could muster. “I’m so sorry for making you all miserable,” I said as I looked around the table.
“Don’t be, Emma, thank you for telling us,” said Mrs F, who had the tissues out. “It’s much better we know. It stops us putting our foot in it.” She shook her head. “We knew there was something that had brought you great sadness. Do you want to talk about it?” she finished tentatively.
“Not particularly,” I shrugged, “but I’m happy to answer any questions.” Then as the others drank their coffee we chatted. They asked and I told them about Eva – her life, her death and everything in between.
Eventually I thought it was time I got going so I tried to move things along, “Now you know everything and it has been a tough time, but coming to the estate, meeting all of you and finding Trent has helped me…not to get over it, as such, but to come to terms with it.”
“We thought it was your divorce.” That came from Young and it didn’t surprise me. I’d assumed they’d thought that.
“Ah, that was just piled on top.” I smiled ruefully.
“Can I ask something…personal…about that?” she continued.
“Of course.”
“Did Eva’s…did what happened cause the break-up of your marriage?” I noted the pause. People couldn’t say it out loud, I’d found that before.
“Indirectly, I guess so.” In for a penny, I told myself, they might as well have it all. “I pushed Alex away after Eva died. Although she took after me, I couldn’t look at him without seeing her. Everything about him was a reminder: the way he looked at me, his mannerisms. I pushed him away and he had an affair with my best friend. That’s what finished our marriage.”
I heard the sharp intake of breath around me.
“What a bastard,” exclaimed Young.
“What a bitch,” chimed in Burton.
“I can’t believe they would do that at such a time,” Mrs F added crossly. I smiled at their outrage, amazed that I could feel so equable about it now.
“I will never defend her but don’t be too hard on him. He was hurting and needed comfort too, and he certainly wasn’t getting it from me. But she took advantage and deserves everything she gets.” My feelings hadn’t changed much there but it felt good standing up for Alex. I’d come a long way on that front. “Look, I don’t want to have to keep telling people, so I wondered if you could all let the others know. Just casually, like, when you see them…just those on the estate.”
“Of course we will,” Bray reassured along with the agreement of the others.
I started to get up to leave, then halted in my tracks as Burton said, “I saw her photo.” I looked at her, surprised.
“You did?” I thought I’d been careful about putting it away in the drawer whenever my cottage was due to be cleaned.
She nodded. “Yeah, it was on the bedside cabinet one day. You must have left it out. I wondered who it was. I thought perhaps a niece, but then I thought she looked a lot like you, and I wondered…” She smiled hesitantly, then added abruptly, almost as an afterthought, “I didn’t tell anyone.”
“Thanks, Kay, I appreciate your discretion.”
“Well,” said Greene, planting her hands on the table as she made to get up, “if there’s one thing we do know all about here, it’s discretion,” and I laughed along with the others at this understatement as our gathering broke up.
He contemplated the items on the desk in front of him as he sat back in the chair and lifted the glass, the liquid burning its passage down his throat. He didn’t need to check in the mirror to know he was pale, he could feel it; an embedded weariness that never lifted palled at him. His very blood was thin, all of him drawn out like the last scrapings of butter across crisp toast. Not surprising really given all that had happened, the decisions he’d had to make.
His hair belied his age, being thick, wavy and still dark, though greying at the temples. No, it was the creases in his face that gave it away; the life he’d led. Each groove was etched by time and emotion into his face as if left there as a marker for every person he’d killed. He didn’t need a reminder of any of them; none would be forgotten, so unwillingly had their lives been taken.
He hadn’t set out to be what he had become. He remembered a time when he had been proud of his abilities, his talent, not realising then the attention it garnered. How foolish he had been in hindsight. Sometimes, he thought, a person does not choose their career. It chooses them, or someone chooses it for them, as had been the case with him. Now he’d reached the point he’d dreaded. Subconsciously he’d always known it would come one day, but having spent the latter part of his life trying to put it off, trying to do the right thing, it was galling that it was now about to blow up in his face.
Chapter 3
There followed the most miserable few weeks of ill health I’d ever experienced. I woke every morning feeling fine and dandy and able to eat my usual breakfast of toast, but from around noon the day would rapidly deteriorate. Crackers and cheese usually, but not always, stayed down for lunch, but dinner was altogether trickier. The safest bet was plain pasta as long as it wasn’t green. I couldn’t have anything green on the plate; that would ensure I never ate anything as my stomach heaved just at the sight. Some days even the smell of the food being cooked would be enough to prevent me eating, but generally I managed small amounts of plainly cooked meat, potatoes, rice and a few non-green vegetables. At a time when everyone was telling me to eat healthily this was as close to a balanced diet as I could get.
The nausea made life unpleasant, thou
gh I tried to keep the truth of how bad I was feeling from Trent, worried he’d stop me working. I’d get the horses ready and tacked up in the morning so Carlton and Greene only had to do the riding. Even though I was struggling, I aimed to get the bulk of my work done in the morning as exhaustion overwhelmed me in the afternoon. I slept every day after lunch and staggered out to do evening stables before collapsing back into the cottage afterwards. I would never have believed anyone could sleep so much.
It was late one afternoon when Carlton caught me being sick by the muck heap. He wrapped me up against his chest and held me tight.
“Don’t you think you should take a break now, Em? You’re not well and we could easily do more or find someone else to help out.”
I pushed him away.
“No, and don’t even think of telling Trent about this,” I warned. “I am not losing my job.”
“Okay.” He held his hands up in a placatory manner. “Whatever you want, but you need to take better care of yourself, Em.”
“I will, and it will pass,” I muttered as I took up the handles of the wheelbarrow and started trundling it back to the yard. “All things do.”
The next morning when he and Greene arrived at the yard, Carlton handed me a fancy-looking box of organic ginger tea. He’d done some research, he said, and it was meant to ease morning sickness. Quite overwhelmed he’d gone to the trouble, he looked a little bashful when I told him so, which made me smile.
“You’ll make a great father-to-be one day, Carlton.” I grinned as he shrugged it off and went to get Regan out, while Greene and I laughed at his discomfort. Carlton and I had always got on, ever since my first day of work here, and there had been a moment when we could have been much more. It would be difficult for anyone not to find him attractive, and I knew he found me so, but that moment had come to nothing other than leaving a connection between us – a bond, if you like – where we cared for each other possibly a little more than was normal.