Lady of Hay by Barbara Erskine (reading an ebook TXT) 📕

A stray breeze, carrying the scent of heliotrope from among the pleached limes of the sunken garden beside Kensington Palace, stirred the curtains, and somewhere a cat yowled and knocked over an empty milk bottle, which rolled down a flight of steps into the gutter.

Jo did not move. She was lying on her side, her hair loose across her face, her arms around the pillow.

It was just beginning to grow light when she woke suddenly. For a moment she did not know what had awakened her, as she stared around the shadowy room. The lamp was still on by her bed, but outside, between the curtains, she could see the pale light of dawn above the rooftops. Then she heard it again. The hungry cry of her baby. Sitting up, yawning, she flung back her hair and reached slowly toward the cradle on the far side of the bed.

Chapter 15

It wasn't there. The room was silent. And empty. For a moment she sat quite still, completely bewildered, then, slowly, she remembered and with a sigh she flung herself back on the pillows. Tears trickled down her cheeks. Her arms felt empty, desolate; she ached with loneliness. It was as if part of her had been removed. The baby, with his downy hair, his tiny fringed eyelids, the fragments of caul still clinging behind his ears, the pale-blue swaddling bands that had imprisoned his little fists as he lay in her arms, staring up at her with so much love and trust. "Oh, God!" She turned over and buried her face in the pillows. "It was a dream. A stupid, bloody dream!" She groped on the bedside table for a box of tissues, then she pulled her clock to face her. It was half-past four.

She had begun to shiver violently. For a moment she lay back, huddled beneath the covers, trying to get warm, then, miserable, she sat up again. It was no good. She would not sleep again and she was getting colder by the minute. She wished fervently she had allowed Nick to stay now. She wanted someone to talk to. Her head was splitting and her breasts ached. She crossed her arms, trying to ease the discomfort, and suddenly felt a cold wetness on the front of her nightgown. She stared down at herself in horror, then she shot out of bed. After running into the bathroom, she turned on the light and slipped down the ribbon straps, letting the thin cotton slip to the floor, leaving her standing naked in front of the mirror. Her breasts were full and tight, laced with blue veins, and even as she stared in fascinated horror at her reflection she saw a drop of watery blue liquid forming on her left nipple.

Her heart was pounding violently. Desperately she tried to control her tears as she reached for her bathrobe from the back of the door and folded it around her. Knotting the belt, she groped her way into the living room and reached for the phone.

Her hand was shaking so much she could scarcely dial, but at last she could hear the tone. It was several seconds before the receiver was lifted.

"Nick. Oh, Nick, please come. Please. " She struggled to keep her voice steady.

"Jo? Is that you?" The voice at the other end was so quiet it was almost a whisper. It was Sam. "What's wrong?"

Jo took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. "I'm sorry to wake you, Sam. Can I speak to Nick, please?"

There was a slight pause, then his voice, very gentle, came again. "He's not here, Jo. Is something wrong?"

"Not there?" she echoed bleakly.

"I'm afraid not. What is it? You sound frightened. Has something happened? Tell me, Jo. "

Jo swallowed hard. For a moment she could not speak, then she managed to whisper, "Sam, can you come over?"

He asked no more questions. "I'll be there in fifteen minutes, " he said at once, then he hung up.

After she had rung off, Jo didn't move. Slowly the milk was soaking into her robe. Her teeth were chattering in spite of the warmth of the room and she huddled on the edge of her chair, rocking herself gently back and forth, only dragging herself upright at last when she heard the sound of a taxi in the quiet street outside. She reached the intercom at the same moment that it buzzed.

Sam came up the stairs two at a time.

"What is it, Jo? Are you ill?" He closed the door behind him and stood staring at her. She saw with a quick pang of misery that he was wearing one of Nick's jackets over his dark turtleneck shirt.

She was looking, he thought irrelevantly, more beautiful than he had ever seen her, her long disheveled hair dark against the stark white of her robe, her face pale, her huge eyes accentuated by the shadows beneath them.

"Nick said he'd go back to the apartment, " she stammered. "He said I could phone. "

"I'm glad you did. " Sam steered her into the living room and toward a chair. "Now, tell me about it slowly. "

Hesitatingly she told him about her latest visit to Bennet. She glanced at his face, expecting an outburst of anger, but he said nothing and she forced herself to go on. "Perhaps he knew what would happen. He prescribed sleeping pills for me before I came home, but I never take them. Nick wanted to stay, but I wouldn't let him, so I suppose he went back to Judy after all. " She glanced down at her hands.

Sam said nothing. He was watching her face closely.

"I woke up, " she went on with a heavy sigh. "The baby woke me with his crying—William, he was to be called, like his father and his father's father—but he wasn't there. " Her voice shook. "And then I found—" She stopped. "I found that I'm... " She hesitated again, suddenly embarrassed. Mutely her hands went to her