The Grayson Trilogy
Page 58
I wanted to walk much further than Trent wanted me to. Naturally in his ideal world he would have liked me to remain in the cottage, preferably under lock and key, but I’d got my way by telling him I’d read that walking was good for getting the baby in the right place for delivery. I actually had no idea whether that was true or not, but it did help me get rid of some of my current anxiety issues if I kept moving, so I felt justified economising with the truth.
Walking through the woods was therapeutic for my rattled nerves. Now that we were getting towards the end of April the estate was fully cloaked in spring. Fresh vibrant greens surrounded us, the tree canopy above filled with the restless urgency of nesting and new birth. Exhausted parents, in their endless quest for food, criss-crossed the woods to satisfy hungry mouths. Squabbles broke out sporadically over mates, nesting sites and food, the competition heightened at this frantic time.
The ground was richly covered in new growth too and I was delighted to see the first bluebells out, knowing that within days more would follow to roll out a blue carpet across the woodland floor, filling the air with their heady scent. It was getting warmer, certainly when out from under the trees, though here we were shaded from what spring sunshine there was around and I was pleased I’d pulled on my jacket as we’d left.
“So do you think I’m justified not to trust him?” I challenged Trent, wondering if he’d defend Volkov again.
“Well he sounded pretty genuine last night,” he replied.
Of course he did, it’s all an act, I thought.
“What he’s doing is pretty dangerous, Em. He’s got to accidentally let slip who you are to the Polzins, a secret he’s managed to keep to himself for more than twenty-five years. How he’s going to do that without it looking suspicious I don’t know, and then he’s somehow got to build it up enough to make Anatoly and Orlov come after you without them thinking they’re walking into a trap.”
A text came into my phone. Caller ID showed the number to be withheld and I found myself surprised by the small thrill of anticipation elicited by getting a message from Volkov.
“Oh, another one, he’s getting prolific,” I exclaimed, as Trent’s phone went.
Only it wasn’t from him.
“What do you mean ‘another’?” Trent asked, speaking quickly, as he answered his call.
It read:
‘We know who you are, Emma, see you very soon.’
Icy water trickled down my spine as my hair prickled on my scalp in alarm. I stood frozen, staring at the message. I watched him, as he listened to the call and then went still. I saw his eyes flick over to me then away as he cast his gaze around the woodland. I held up my message to him, saw his eyes widen as he relayed it to whoever had called. I suspected it was Cavendish.
“There have been others?”
I nodded and Trent took my phone from me, scanning through the messages and reading them to the caller, then after listening for a few moments confirmed his agreement to whatever was being said and finished by saying we were heading for the tree house.
“What about the messages?” I demanded.
“Only the first one was from Volkov.”
“How do you know?”
“Code. No time to explain now. A party of five has been spotted on the estate in the stable yard.” Pausing briefly, he added with reluctance, “Volkov is one of them.”
Well of course he was. I wasn’t surprised and I didn’t bother saying I told you so. I was pretty certain my expression spoke volumes. He’d brought them straight here and got them onto the estate. I couldn’t believe they’d come so quickly, though. I’d imagined a few days, not less than twenty-four hours.
“What now?” was all I could manage as I suddenly realised how exposed we were; how defenceless I was.
“Now,” he looked at me, his expression serious, “we run.”
Easier said than done when you were the size I was, but I did my best. Moving any faster than a walk was uncomfortable so I held on to my stomach as we doubled back and headed cross country for the tree house, which was situated between us and the stables. I’d been diligent in working out at the gym, but that was not enough to counteract the effects the late stages of pregnancy can have on a body. Trent scooped Susie up as we passed her, doing his best with one arm wrapped around me to help me along. It was hard going. Leaving the paths meant rougher undergrowth to negotiate and the ground was naturally hillier this side of the estate. Cumbersome, I found myself tripping and stumbling down banks and struggling to get up the inclines on the other side.
Fear was the driver, a desperate need to get under cover. Fortunately it wasn’t too far, which was just as well as I was gasping for breath, my body shaking by the time we stood at the edge of the clearing from where we could see the house built into the branches of three large trees. We stopped for a moment as Trent checked the coast was clear, then we crossed the horribly exposed area to the stairs, which we ran up. Or rather, Trent ran up them and I lumbered behind as he dragged me along with him, pulling keys out of his pocket at the same time, throwing the door open and me inside as fast as he could.
Chapter 10
Trent closed the door, plunging us into near darkness. Chinks of light showed around some of the shutters that guarded the windows. He put Susie down on the floor as I collapsed onto one of the kitchen chairs, my body hot, sweating and heaving with the exertion of the run. I noted Trent was barely out of breath while my lungs felt like they were on fire. I took a few moments, gradually steadying my breaths, eventually able to take longer, more controlled ones. Even after such a relatively short period of exercise my body was complaining, my joints feeling loose and weak. I sat forward, trying to ease the ache in my back as I leaned on my knees, calming my trembling body.
Cracking one of the shutters a fraction, Trent peered out, still and quiet. Presumably satisfied with the outside world, he glanced over at me.
“You okay?” I nodded, trying to get my breath back. His attention had returned to the window. “We could be here for a while. Why don’t you go and lie down for a bit? Try and make yourself comfortable.”
“Okay,” I replied, attracted by that idea. “Can you make sure the cat flap is closed first?” I didn’t want Susie wandering back outside. My eyes had grown accustomed to the dark and I could now see the outlines of furniture and doorways. I stood, using the table to push myself up and off the chair, and as I did I felt the strangest sensation. A pop, deep, deep inside. I hesitated a moment – nothing else – and let out my held breath.
And then it began: the long, slow building of a contraction, my belly hardening like with the practice ones I’d experienced, only this felt different. Rippling and purposeful. Deep inside I could feel the muscles working, peeling me ever so slightly open, the tiniest trickle of water between my legs making adrenaline spike through my veins as my arms and legs weakened and my hand clamped on the table for support.
Oh no, no, no…not now…
As the contraction ebbed away, instead of heading for the lie down I wanted in the sitting room, I turned and went to the bathroom, grabbing a towel from the pile next to the basin on the way. I dropped my jeans and pants and sat on the toilet, anxious about what might happen next.
I was right to be concerned. There was none of the ‘five minutes between contractions’ nonsense; I’d barely sat down when the next one started. Stronger than the first, it meant business.
The ‘pop’ had been my waters breaking, and the strength of this contraction meant that I was highly relieved to be where I was as they gushed out of me. I took a couple of deep breaths as the contraction subsided. My body felt like it was being taken over and shook with the shock of what was happening to it. The good news? Not too much pain…yet.
The next contraction came and went, stronger again and definitely taking more of my attention, but most of the water appeared to have already been expelled. Using the towel as a just-in-case measure, I pulled up my jeans and went to break the news.
Unable to breathe and speak at the same time, I couldn’t answer as he muttered, “What is it?” from his vantage point. When he didn’t receive an answer I saw him glance in my direction, his eyes widening as he took in my condition, but as if frozen he stayed mute.
The contraction eased and I was able to reply, “The baby is coming.” Although it felt like I was stating the bleeding obvious, I said it anyway. He looked aghast, his response equally unnecessary.
“But you’re not due for another couple of weeks.”
So true, but hardly relevant now, and my reply was a little arsy.
“I realise this is inconvenient…”
He left his station by the window and crossed the room to me. “Okay…” He took a deep breath and blew it out, as if to steady his own nerves at this turn of events. “Okay, we’ll get you to hospital. I’ll arrange a car…no, I’ll get an ambulance here.”
He went to call, but my hand closed over his.
“We can’t call an ambulance – it would draw too much attention, and…” I could feel another contraction coming and as it built I lost concentration on what I was saying, only able to cope by breathing through it, then as it receded, “…it will put others in danger.” I was breathing heavily as I moved towards the bedroom. Trent’s arm went around me in support and I heard his small groan as I told him the even worse news.
“Anyway I’m sorry, Trent, but I don’t think there’s any time for us to get to hospital. Baby’s coming too fast.”
“What? You’re going to have it here?” I could hear the note of panic in his voice. “How the hell are you going to do that? We don’t have everything you need to have a baby.”
“We’ll have to make do, we have no choice, and unless…you have…someone…out there…qualified…” the contraction peaked before I could continue, “…as a midwife…it’s going to be down to us.”
He peered round the dark room as if for inspiration. When he next spoke he was considerably more reassuring. “Okay, okay, we can do this,” and I was relieved to hear him sound like he was taking charge, right when I needed him to.
We needed more light and as I took off my jeans and climbed onto the stripped-down bed Trent carefully opened one of the shutters an inch, checking the coast was clear before opening it fully. He did the same with a couple of others then looked back at me.
“Let’s hope nobody notices. I need to get some cover in place. See if I can get hold of Stanton, possibly Lawson. Will you be all right for a moment?”
“Yeah, can you make sure Susie doesn’t come in?” Agreeing, he left the room. I could hear him talking quietly in the kitchen, but another contraction came and, totally focused on that, I heard nothing of what he said. It was clouding over outside, the sky darkening. I could see the first splashes of rain on the windows, hear the patter on the roof, but having some shutters open improved the light levels in the room considerably.
While my head was clear for a moment I thought through what we might need, only sparing a moment to think longingly of the case I’d packed with the essentials, now standing uselessly by the back door at the cottage.
This will be fine, I told myself. Women do this all the time, and it wasn’t as if I hadn’t done it before. This was very different, though. I’d been in labour with Eva for hours – though it had felt like days, days of unrelenting waves of contractions. This time I could feel things were moving fast. Last time I had pain relief, the joys of gas and air to see me through. This time there would be nothing, and the fear that thought evoked ran through me as sweat pinpricked my skin. I shivered as the first wave of panic hit me.
“Trent,” I sobbed as loudly as I dared. He appeared almost immediately in the doorway, just pocketing his phone, and rushed round to the side of the bed. He held my hand tightly as the next contraction was already overwhelming my senses, though I could hear him, his words soothing, comforting, as though to a wounded animal. As it passed this time, I knew I had to get some things organised. I looked over at him.
“Have you sorted the cover out?”
“Yes, Cavendish has kept a guard in place at the Manor and sent everyone else over. They’re going to surround us, at a distance so as not to draw attention, but close enough to make sure no one gets through to us. Stanton and Lawson are on standby, but at a safe distance for now. I don’t want to risk them coming any closer unless it is absolutely necessary.”
“I need you to get a few things. We’ll have to manage the best we can with what we’ve got.” Then I couldn’t speak any more as the next contraction rolled through me. Each one was stronger than the last and I couldn’t help but moan softly at the pain of this one. As it passed I regained control of my breathing and looked at Trent.
“Go to the kitchen drawers and find some scissors and see if there’s some string or something like that in there, then get as many towels as you can find.”
“All right.” Then he didn’t move. “Emma?”
“Yes?”
“You’re going to have to let go of my hand.”
Oh, I really didn’t want to do that.
“Okay, but hurry back.” And as soon as I let go, he sprang away from the bed and rushed out to the kitchen. I heard mumbled curses and drawers being flung open as he searched through the contents for what he needed. Give him his due, he moved fast. After making a quick detour via the bathroom, he was back in no time with his bounty.
He grabbed my hand again as another contraction hit. Though I tried to relax against the pain, I could hear myself whimpering. I knew I couldn’t risk making a noise that might be heard by our enemy. True they were unlikely to hear that, but once I got going who knew what might come out of my mouth? As soon as I could speak again, I muttered, “Pass me a small towel. I need to bite down on something.”
At my urging Trent spread a few of the towels under me. We were about as ready as we were ever going to be and I tried to think through how this was likely to go. It was difficult though. My experience having Eva had been so different, and not only because it had happened safely in a hospital, surrounded by knowledgeable, reassuring midwives with the latest equipment to hand in case anything went wrong. But whenever I thought back to her birth I couldn’t remember too much about it. I was exhausted by the time she’d actually arrived, deadened and pretty much out of it from all the pain relief I’d needed to get that far, and I had been totally in the hands of the midwives.
This time there was going to be none of that. This was probably going to be about as raw and primitive as it got in this country, I guess other than if I’d been outside. Thank goodness for small mercies.
The next contraction built, stronger again, the world slowing around me as I concentrated on the unrelenting wave of intensity crashing through my body. I tried to relax against the pain, but that was so hard, my body tensing instead as I tried to control my breathing, alternating between letting out long slow breaths and biting down on the towel to stop me from screaming when the pain level peaked. As the contraction began to subside, my thoughts, the room around me and Trent close by, holding my hand, soothing me, became clearer again.
“Can I do anything?” he asked, his anxiety clear in his expression.
“No.” I shook my head, knowing I’d only have moments before the next wave struck. I could already feel my stomach starting to tighten, having barely finished from the last time. But this time was different: for the first time I got the urge to push. But I didn’t. I panted, willing it to pass. I’d forgotten this. Last time the midwives had held me off from pushing too early, even though my body cried out to do so, wanting me to wait until I was ready. And now I panicked. I didn’t know what to do. How would I know if I was ready or not? This contraction had subsided, but I knew the next one was going to mean business.
“I wanted to push that time. I don’t kno
w if I’m ready, Trent. How will I know?” My words choked as tears stung my eyes and my throat tightened. Fear flooded my senses, fear of what was coming next, my body shaking as I clawed at the bed with my free hand, desperation settling in as realisation struck as to the hopelessness of my situation. How could I do this seemingly impossible task? There was no way I was going to be able to get this baby out.
“Emma, look at me.” Trent’s voice was deep and calming. “Look at me.” I turned my head and he fixed his eyes on mine. He took my other hand. “Stay with me, Em, you can do this. Listen to what your body is telling you. If you want to push, do it. I’m right here.”
My muscles started tightening powerfully, wave upon wave now building to a peak, the urge to push coming again. Biting down hard on the towel, I tightened my grip on Trent’s hands and, with my eyes never leaving his, I pushed down hard. I held my breath as I pushed, then gasped for air as the pressure began to ease. I felt movement, felt myself opening; with Baby a little nearer to edging out into the world my confidence buoyed just for having got this far.
“Okay?” Trent’s eyebrows arched in question.
I nodded, saving my breath. Despite the intimacies we’d shared, it was awkward having to ask, and I was still breathing heavily as I did: “Could you check down there? See if you can see anything?” I didn’t want him to look, but I needed to know. I needed to have some encouragement that I was getting somewhere. He looked, and came back to me, smiling.
“I can see the top of the head, Em, dark hair.” I tried to smile because that confirmed what I already knew. I fixed on his face, his beautiful face. A contraction building again, the intensity increasing.
“Okay, this time I’m going for it. We have to get her out.”
He caught on immediately. “Her?” I saw his tears brim as he smiled. “Come on then, Em, hold on tight. We can do this.” He gripped my hands hard, meaning business, giving me something solid to cling to as I disappeared into the layers of pain. They engulfed me, building and building and building in a crescendo, reaching a peak of pain as I gathered every last ounce of strength I had and pushed down hard. Trent’s eyes stayed focused on mine, his words of encouragement mouthed but not heard; it was as if I’d entered another plane of existence…