by Georgia Rose
When I got back Trent had been busy. Susie was keen to let me know something was going on upstairs when I greeted her, and as I carried my purchases up to our bedroom I paused on the landing to watch Trent hard at work. Sticking with the original plan, two walls were going to be green and two yellow; pale pastels, the soothing colours of nature. We’d discussed getting in some of the others to help, but he’d said it was something he wanted to do, and so far he’d finished the green. He grinned as he showed off his handiwork proudly and I smiled at the splashes of paint that decorated him. He looked relaxed and carefree; one of those moments to cherish at a time when such opportunities didn’t present themselves that often.
By the end of the next day the nursery was finished, but empty. We stood looking round it and I knew we needed to get some stuff ahead of the game. I explained my aborted trip to the baby shop to Trent.
“One step at a time,” he reminded me. “We’ll go together and get the furniture and the basics, but nothing personal until Baby arrives,” and thus reassured I nodded.
“When shall we go?” I was feeling much more positive about it now he was going to be with me.
“Tomorrow…” and he turned away, busying himself with clearing up the dust sheets. It was in that one word that I knew he was leaving again.
Trent was quite right in his advice to take things one step at a time. This philosophy was working well on dealing with the baby stuff and I had other, more concerning things to focus on. Trent was often away now, telling me he was ‘going for a while’ and my mind was occupied more and more with worries for his safety. It was the same for many on the estate, and those of us left behind spent quite a few of our evenings socialising. Although security on the estate was heightened, we made an effort to meet at The Red Calf, generally once a week, varying our nights, trying to ensure we did nothing in a pattern at a time when any interested parties might view the estate as vulnerable. Not that it was: a skeleton staff was always on duty and vigilance was maintained on the estate cameras.
Grace spent a good deal of her time making sure everyone was keeping their spirits up and organising various little gatherings, occasionally outings. We would rotate meeting up at each other’s places, and numbers attending fluctuated depending on unavoidable work commitments.
I knew that everyone was keeping a particularly close eye on me and I appreciated the support. While I enjoyed having time to myself and generally only having the company of Susie and the horses during the day, the evenings could be tiresomely long and filled with concerns for Trent, the others on the estate and, inevitably, the baby. I longed to know what Trent was up to, but contact was intermittent and, whereas he could ask me things about my life, I couldn’t reciprocate. It was frustrating. Others on the estate were in exactly the same situation and understood completely.
One of the people who straddled both worlds was Greene. Sometimes she went away with them, sometimes she was left behind, and it was on one occasion when she and Grace had popped round to mine that she opened up in a way she hadn’t before. They were sharing a bottle of wine and Grace was updating me with news of the children. I was looking forward to spending some time with Sophia and Reuben over the upcoming holidays and also to afterwards, when the baby had arrived and I could get back to riding out with them. As it was I had plans to increase the amount of jumping we did in the arena and paddocks, which I was sure they would love. Greene had been listening quietly, and casually added into the conversation that she and Carlton had discussed starting a family. She paused, then asked us what we thought.
“It will change your life,” I stated, keeping my tone neutral. I glanced at Grace who inclined her head in support of my statement, then reached over to refill Greene’s glass.
“I know,” Greene sipped her wine. “There’ll be no more taking off at a moment’s notice on exciting missions or, I guess, spontaneity of any kind.” And while I nodded in agreement, that’s not what I’d meant at all.
I wanted her to know what none of us can possibly know before we venture down the precarious path of parenthood. I wanted her to know the one thing that no one can tell you, that no book will reveal, which is that while the physical wounds of childbirth heal, becoming a mother leaves an emotional wound so raw that she would be forever vulnerable.
I considered warning her that if accidents, diseases or famines were reported in the news they would haunt her, and she would wonder if anything could be worse than watching her child die. And I could assure her that nothing would even come close, and I knew that she would nod sympathetically yet still have no idea what I really meant.
Greene was an attractive woman. She worked hard on maintaining her physique and I wanted to tell her she would eventually lose the weight she would put on during pregnancy, but she would never feel the same about herself again. Her life, which was now so important, would be of less value to her once she had a child, and she would give it up in an instant to save her offspring. At the same time she would long for more years, not for fulfilling her own dreams, but to see her child accomplish theirs.
I wanted to describe to her the exhilaration of seeing her child learn to ride a bike, or what it was like to hear the belly laugh of a baby when it made some brand new and exciting discovery.
I wanted her to taste the joy that was so real it hurt.
I realised Greene was looking at me in a rather strange way and that tears had formed in my eyes. I looked over at Grace again and we grinned at each other. I knew she was with me and I raised my glass of elderflower cordial to theirs of wine.
Almost as one, Grace and I said, “You’ll never regret it.”
Most of the time, when Trent was away I went to the various doctor’s appointments and check-ups alone, which I was happy to do, but he happened to be at home when we eventually had a brief tour round the local hospital’s maternity unit at the beginning of March. This made him appreciate just how quickly the birth was approaching. After he spent a good part of the next day timing how long it would take him to get to the hospital via a couple of different routes, I had a sobering moment when I found this information typed up. We didn’t live the kind of lives that could be put on hold. Trent could be anywhere when I went into labour and could hardly ask in the middle of a mission God only knew where if it was all right to pop home and attend the birth. I realised he was planning for the fact that he might not be there. We hadn’t spoken about it, but I was a practical person and knew it might well be someone else driving me.
When Trent went away Cavendish always went with him, but more and more often they took others too. Therefore I could never rely on Carlton, Hayes or Wade being around, although I noticed Turner had not yet been taken back out into the field. Trent and I had discussed this and he had told me it was too soon to risk Turner coming up against Anatoly. They were concerned that Turner’s need for personal vengeance would override any thoughts of his own safety or that of others with him, and they needed to know he’d put the success of the mission before exorcising any demons of his own.
With these thoughts in mind I made my own backup plan. I waited until Greene and Grace arrived one morning to ride and asked them if they would be willing to take me to the maternity unit and be with me, should the worst happen and Trent wasn’t there for the birth. Both said yes, though Greene’s agreement was obviously on the proviso she was around and I was relieved to have my team, or at least part of it in the form of Grace, definitely in place.
When I’d finished the stables that morning I went up to the Manor to give what, since Christmas, had become a weekly briefing on my condition to those who turned up for morning coffee. Many were taking a keen and seemingly genuine interest in the impending arrival of Baby, so I reciprocated by being more sociable when I could be and imparting information whenever I had some to share. On this morning there was only Mrs F and Bray present, and we sat chatting about inconsequential things for a few minutes before Bray excused herself as she had to get on. As she left, the door slammin
g behind her, the baby kicked out obviously which drew Mrs F’s attention to my stomach.
She looked a little uncomfortable as she asked, “Emma, would you mind if I?” and made a movement with her hand in the direction of my stomach.
“Oh, of course not, go ahead.” As she placed her hand on me I moved it to the place where I could feel Baby turning, and sure enough, moments later, there was a violent wiggle followed by a kick. Mrs F gasped.
“Oh my goodness, that’s incredible.” She took her hand away, and as she met my eyes I saw the tears in hers.
Alarmed, I placed a hand on her arm. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for you to get upset.” She shook her head, blinking the tears away.
“You haven’t. It’s amazing, and I’m so happy for you. It’s just one of those things I wish I’d got to experience.”
I didn’t know much about her past, so asked hesitantly, “Did you try…to have children?”
“We did. Technically I guess we’ve never given up trying…” and she laughed, though it sounded bittersweet. “But we were already too old when we got together, and it’s never happened for us.”
“I’m sorry.” It sounded inadequate against such sadness, but she patted my hand and gave me a big smile.
“Such are life’s disappointments, Emma. We all have our crosses to bear, you know that more than most, and as long as I get plenty of baby cuddles and am called on for babysitting duties I shall be perfectly happy.”
I beamed at her. “You can count on it.”
It was the third week of March. Trent had got back the previous evening, his mood darkened with exhaustion having been away for nearly two weeks. He’d slept, spent the morning at the Manor, and had just driven back into the yard. I knew before he even got out of the truck he was leaving again. He sat there watching me, deep in thought, and I just knew.
I closed Regan’s door and wandered across to where he’d parked. He was still sitting there, and it wasn’t until I opened the door that he moved at all. He turned to me; not a word.
“You’re going again, aren’t you?” I didn’t need to wait for an answer. “You’ve only just got back, Trent, you’re knackered.” I was stating the obvious for something to say more than anything else and didn’t expect a response. He only shrugged. “What?” I continued. “You seem strange, distracted.”
He spoke, still deep in thought. “Yeah…it’s probably nothing, but we’ve been ordered to go to headquarters, which is a bit unusual.” He seemed to be wracking his brains as to the reason, then made a move to get out of the cab. “I’ve just got a feeling that something’s not right and I can’t quite put my finger on what it is.”
“What does Cavendish think?”
“I’m not sure. We haven’t had a chance to talk – we’ve only just received the order and are reacting to it, but I think he thinks like me.”
“Maybe it’s for a meeting of some sort, or to pass on some intel,” I volunteered.
“Maybe, but if it was intel they would just pass it on. They wouldn’t need to meet with us.” Although he didn’t seem convinced, he suddenly brightened a little. “I guess if it is just a meeting, though, I’ll be back very soon.” Checking his watch, he finished, “I’ve just got time for a shower, then we’re off.”
“Okay, I’ll go and carry on and see you before you go,” and I watched him walk to the cottage before I turned back to the stables.
He was ready within ten minutes and came over to give me a hug, all wet hair and smelling clean and soapy. He placed one hand on my stomach. “All quiet?”
“Yes, Baby’s enjoying a mid-morning nap, saving its energy to give me a good kicking later.” I smiled and he withdrew his hand, reluctantly.
“Look after both of you, Em,” and he kissed me, deliciously minty fresh.
“Of course,” I replied as the kiss ended.
He groaned. “I don’t want to go.”
I pushed at him playfully. “Go on, get it over with and get back here.”
“Okay, I won’t be long,” and I watched as he walked away.
With no idea how wrong he was…
Two weeks earlier…
The receipt of this photo had changed everything for him. Every decision he now took, every plan he now made was because of this. The ridiculous thing was that, even after all the precautions he’d taken, they’d still arrived at this point, though this turn of events had not been of his making, which had surprised him. He’d always thought that it would be because of something he did that this die would be cast, but as it had turned out he’d ended up in this position even though his clients still remained oblivious as to what – or whom – they were dealing with. This made it all the more precarious because he wanted that situation to remain the same for as long as possible. Timing was everything now. Picking up a pen, he flipped the photo over and made his mark on the back.
He reached across the desk to pull a wooden box towards him, then placed all the photos inside before closing it carefully. He ran his fingers lightly across the warmth of the golden wood, hoping, wishing he could impart a memory, then he wrapped it in plain brown paper and addressed it, although this was one parcel he would not be trusting to any courier. He would deliver it himself.
He sat back after filling his glass again and contemplated what he’d done, the plans he’d put in place, going over every detail to ensure, with his usual dedication and attention, he’d not missed anything. There’d be no room for mistakes. He knew after he’d delivered this parcel there would be no going back and the card he was throwing down in the deadly game he now played marked the beginning of what he had come to realise would be his end.
Chapter 5
My impatience for him to return was a little out of character. Normally I relished a bit of time on my own, but it was unusual nowadays for Trent not to give me any indication of when he would return. A call or a text would not have gone amiss, I thought grumpily as I washed up after a light supper of chicken and salad. At least with Trent away I didn’t have him complaining about how little I was eating. He didn’t understand that with Baby now being the size he was there was little room for anything else; he still felt the need to feed me at any opportunity, afraid I would fade away when it was patently obvious there was precious little chance of that happening for a good while yet.
I put my unsettled state down to the nature of his call into work. He didn’t often get ordered to go to headquarters, especially when he’d only recently got back; he usually just received details of wherever he was needed and because of that peculiarity I was curious as to what it was about. I had hoped it was positive and that there was news on the whereabouts of Anatoly and Orlov, but the call had made me edgy. Call it my sixth sense, but I couldn’t help thinking that for some reason he, and presumably Cavendish, were in trouble. This was mainly due to the fact they had gone to that meeting on Friday – it was now Sunday.
And there had been no contact.
Wandering into the sitting room I thought I might watch a film, but after running my finger along the spines of the DVDs on the shelf looking for inspiration, I found none. So I curled up on the settee and picked up my book instead. Susie joined me, wriggling up as close as possible and after winding herself into a ball, she promptly fell asleep.
I started reading, my hand resting on my belly, feeling the movements coming from Baby. True to form, the minute I was still the kicking and stretching from within began. I had a feeling we were going to have a light sleeper on our hands.
So deep was I in my book that I jumped when my phone went. Trent’s ringtone broke the silence previously only punctuated by Susie’s light snoring and her occasional whimpering as she dreamt of chasing prey.
“Hello,” I answered, eager to have the chance to find out what he was up to.
“Good evening, Grayson,” came the response. Okaaay, I thought, taken aback – that was a little formal. I could feel the frown form on my face.
“Good evening to you too,” I replied car
efully, knowing he would feel the unease in my words. “What’s going on, Trent?”
“Carlton’s on his way to pick you up.” His tone was brusque and jangling bells rang as questions formed.
“What’s going on?” I repeated quickly, my voice sharper this time.
“I can’t tell you.”
“Why aren’t you picking me up?” For that matter, why couldn’t I drive myself?
“I’m not allowed to…” and he ended the call. His voice was matter of fact, as if it was not me he was talking to. Why would that be? I didn’t understand and my mind went into overdrive. After no contact at all he called and talked to me like that? No affection, no warmth, no information. It was as if he was annoyed at me for something, but I couldn’t think what that could be.
Or – I thought rapidly – it was that he was unable to speak freely. Ahh, that was it! Someone was with him, preventing him from saying more. But who could it be? Someone here on the estate? I dismissed that as unlikely; it wouldn’t make him unfriendly towards me.
Someone who had come onto the estate? A sudden wave of anxiety passed through me. Were we being attacked again? No, don’t be ridiculous, I told myself, he wouldn’t have rung me like that if we were. There would be an estate-wide warning and he wouldn’t have informed me Carlton was coming to get me. No, it wasn’t that. I shook my head, frustrated with not knowing what was going on.
His attitude had definitely been off, and what was that about him not being allowed to come and get me? That was odd. There was only one thing I was sure of: he was giving me a warning. I didn’t know what for, but I knew I needed to be on my guard.