Whispers (41 page)

Jess shook her head. What good could it do? It wouldn’t miraculously bring her baby back to life, would it?

Eventually the girl sighed and rose to her feet. It was very clear that Jess wasn’t ready to talk about anything just yet. ‘If you don’t want to talk about it, how about seeing your baby?’ she asked as she slipped a photo into Jess’s hand. ‘This is your son. I er . . . thought you might like to keep it.’

Jess didn’t even attempt to look at it, but now the tears that were locked inside had risen into her throat and she was afraid that they might choke her.

‘I’m going to leave you now.’ The young woman’s voice was heavy with sympathy. ‘I think you need some time to get your head around what’s happened. But if you should decide that you want to see him, just ring the bell and someone will bring him to you. At some stage we have to arrange the funeral, but think about if for now. There’s no rush.’

As she left the room, shock settled around Jess like a wet blanket. A funeral! She hadn’t thought that far ahead, but of course the child would need to be laid to rest.

Slowly she lifted the photo, and as her eyes settled on a tiny baby wrapped in a blue blanket the lump in her throat grew even larger. This small slip of paper was all she had of her son now; she would be taking this measly reminder home rather than him. And yet still the tears remained trapped inside as she gazed at the picture. A few moments later yet another nurse entered the room and now Jess told her, ‘I . . . I want to see my baby.’ She had no idea where the words had come from. She hadn’t meant to say them but now there was no going back.

‘I’ll go and tell Sister right away.’ The young nurse left as Jess lay still, her mind in turmoil. It seemed like a lifetime until a shadow appeared in the doorway again, and this time Jess saw that it was the Sister and she was holding a white broderie anglaise Moses basket in her arms. Closing the door quietly behind her, she approached the bed with a sympathetic smile on her face.

‘Would you like me to stay with you?’ she asked. ‘Or would you rather spend some time on your own with him?’

Jess gulped. ‘I think I’d rather be alone, please.’

‘Of course. Just ring your bell if you need me. And do pick him up if you wish to.’ The woman laid the basket on the end of the bed then turned and quietly left the room.

Jess took a deep breath and slowly sat up, clutching the dressing on her stomach as she did so. She felt as weak as a lamb, but forced herself to swing her legs out of the bed and then sat there for a moment until the wave of dizziness that swept over her had passed.

Very cautiously she walked to the end of the bed, holding on to the mattress for support and after another deep breath she made herself look down into the basket. The sight that met her eyes made her gasp with pain. The child looked absolutely perfect and was like a miniature clone of his father. The nurses had dressed him in a little blue Babygro and he looked so peaceful that Jess expected him to wake up at any minute and cry for a feed. His long lashes were curled on his soft cheeks and his head was covered in thick dark hair that was exactly the same colour as his father’s. His tiny hands were curled into fists and now she gently stroked his fingers, revelling in the feel of his satiny skin. She had promised herself she would only look at him, but now the desire to hold him in her arms took over and she gently lifted him from his crib and cradled him against her chest, suddenly forgetting all about the stitches in her stomach.

And then the tears finally fell, running in rivers down her face and dropping onto his pale, cold cheeks.

‘Hello, sweetheart,’ she mumbled brokenly. ‘I’m your mummy and I love you so
very
much.’ And in that moment she realised that she really
did
love him. She would always love him and remember this brief precious time when she had been able to hold him.

She was still sitting there gently rocking him to and fro when the door opened and glancing up, she saw Simon standing there with a look of pure horror on his face.

‘Is that . . .’ His voice trailed away as he stared at the baby.

‘It’s our son, Simon, and he’s truly beautiful. Do you want to hold him?’

He pressed himself against the wall. ‘No,’ he choked out. ‘He’s
dead
, isn’t he?’

‘Yes, sadly he is, but he’s still our son and this will be the only chance you’ll ever get to touch him. Are you quite sure that you don’t want to?’

The look of disgust on his face cut into her like a knife. ‘Yes, I
am
sure,’ he ground out. ‘It’s unhealthy to sit there nursing a dead baby. Get the nurse to take it away.’

‘He isn’t an
it
!’ Jess stared at him, all the hurt she was feeling mirrored in her eyes, and in that moment it hit her that Simon had never truly wanted this child. The last couple of months he had just pretended to, in order to appease her.

‘He would be alive if someone hadn’t pushed me down the stairs,’ she said bitterly.

Simon looked at her as if she had totally taken leave of her senses but he kept his voice calm as he told her, ‘Look, love, you’ve had a terrible accident. It was no one’s fault and no one pushed you. You’re just distraught at the moment and your imagination is running away with you.’

‘Someone
did
push me,’ she declared, and stared at him defiantly.

He held up his hands in an effort to placate her. ‘All right, all right. Let’s talk about this when we get you home. But for now, how about we ask the nurse to take . . . him away.’

He hurriedly opened the door and seconds later the Sister reappeared and waited while Jess gently laid the baby back in his crib after kissing him for the last time. And as she watched the kindly woman carry him away, she felt as if a little part of her heart was going with him.

‘I’m coming home,’ she told Simon dully when the nurse had disappeared from sight.

‘Oh good. When?’

‘In the morning, all being well. Will you be able to fetch me?’

‘Well, I was planning on going to work,’ he said uncertainly, but seeing the look on Jess’s face he quickly ended with, ‘but of course I’ll break off to come and get you.’

‘How
good
of you.’ Jess could not keep the sarcasm from her voice. She felt as if she was dying inside and yet not once had Simon even said how sorry he was about losing the baby. It was as if their son had never existed. As if they had never even been expecting a baby.

He shuffled from foot to foot looking more uncomfortable by the minute as he watched Jess’s devastated face, but then a gentleman in a dark suit entered the room telling them that he had come to organise the baby’s funeral with them.

‘Funeral?’ Simon scratched his head. ‘I didn’t think we’d have to have one of those.’

‘Oh, did you think we were just going to dig a hole in the back lawn for him then?’ Jess said. At that moment, she hated her husband.

‘Look, I er . . . reckon I’m going to leave this to you,’ he muttered now as he tugged at his collar and inched towards the door. ‘Ring me tomorrow when you’re ready to come home, eh?’ And with that he beat a hasty retreat, leaving Jess to talk to the undertaker alone.

Later that evening, a nurse removed the drips from the side of Jess’s bed and told her that she was doing well. Jess managed to raise a smile even though she felt as if she might never ‘do well’ again. It had been a long gruelling day and eventually she slept from pure exhaustion.

The following morning, when the doctors had done their rounds and pronounced her well enough to go home, Jess slowly made her way to the pay phone at the top of the ward and dialled the house. She could hardly wait to get away from the maternity ward, as each time one of the newborn babies cried it was like a knife stabbing into her heart. After a while when there was no reply, she rang Simon’s mobile, but again she was forwarded to his answer machine and she gritted her teeth with annoyance. He had known she was coming home today, so
why
didn’t he answer? She briefly thought of ringing Laura and asking her to fetch her, but then swiftly changed her mind and rang a taxi instead. She would have to go home in the nightdress and the gown that the hospital had loaned her, and pay the taxi when they got to Stonebridge House, but anything was better than having to stay in this place another second. The Ward Sister was not at all
happy
about her going home in a taxi on her own, but Jess stood her ground, insisting that she would be fine and promising to return the nightclothes at the earliest opportunity.

And so she left the hospital with empty arms and an even emptier heart, and as the taxi pulled away from it she tried not to think of what should have been.

When the taxi pulled into the courtyard at Stonebridge House, Jess was surprised to see Laura just storming out of the kitchen door with Simon hot on her heels. Laura looked momentarily stunned when she saw Jess but quickly regained her composure as she opened the car door for her, whilst Simon watched from the kitchen doorway, clearly agitated.

‘I er . . . I’m so sorry to hear about the baby,’ Laura stammered, then without another word she strode away, her coat flapping behind her in the wind as Simon hurried forward to help Jess out of the taxi and pay the driver.

‘What was all that about?’ Jess questioned as she leaned heavily on Simon’s arm.

‘Oh . . . she seems to think that I should have been taking better care of you,’ he muttered.

Jess shrugged. She appreciated Laura’s concern but at that moment in time she had more things to worry about than Laura’s feelings, so she merely nodded as he gently helped her inside.

Baby James Beddows was buried the following week in a simple ceremony at the church where Jess’s grandmother had been buried. Her grandmother’s grave had been opened and his tiny coffin was laid in with hers. Somehow it gave Jess a measure of comfort to know that her gran was watching over him and keeping him safe until they met again one day. There were few mourners, just Jess and Simon and the two girls, and Karen and her husband, Geoff, who stood white-faced as they tried to come to terms with what had happened. Surprisingly, Mel had taken it as badly as Jo, which completely shocked Jess, seeing as Mel had never seemed to want the baby.

As soon as the service was over, Karen and Geoff quietly offered their condolences and slipped away, correctly guessing that the family would wish to be by themselves.

Jess was quite hurt that Laura hadn’t put in an appearance. In fact, she hadn’t seen her at all since the day she had returned home from the hospital, but she surmised that Laura didn’t know what to say to her and so had chosen to stay away for the time being.

Jo was inconsolable on the way back to the house and sobbed into Jess’s shoulder in the back seat. The girls had both had a day off school to attend the funeral, and once they were all home again, Simon insisted that Jess should go for a lie-down. She went quietly. It didn’t really matter where she was or what she did; the hurt was never far away as she pictured her baby’s perfect little face.

After changing out of the black coat she had bought for her grandmother’s funeral, Jess slipped into bed. Soon afterwards, Simon brought her a cup of tea and placed it down on the bedside table, asking, ‘Would you mind very much if I went back to work? The girls are here if you need anything and I think I’d like to be doing something rather than just sitting about.’

Jess nodded, not really caring what he did or where he went at that moment in time. He stood uncertainly for a second staring down at her pale face on the pillow before turning abruptly and leaving the room.

She lay for a long time staring at the ceiling until eventually she took Martha’s journal from the drawer. She desperately needed something to distract her and hoped that reading a little more might do the trick as she opened it to the page she had carefully marked.

6 January

The day started well, for Miss Melody’s fever broke during the night and now the doctor thinks she may come through this after all. The whole household offered up prayers of thanks although we are all gravely concerned about how she will take the news of her baby’s death when she is well enough to be told.

‘Eeh, thank the Lord!’ Cook exclaimed when Miss Prim entered the kitchen to tell them that the young Mistress’s fever had broken.

‘She is still very weak, of course,’ Miss Prim went on, ‘but the doctor is hopeful now that she will pull through with constant nursing. I really don’t know how I shall ever be able to thank you all enough for the diligent care you have shown her,’ Miss Prim went on. ‘Dear Grace is still up there with her now, although I have pleaded with her to come away. The dear girl has been like Melody’s guardian angel but she must be totally exhausted by now.’

‘That’s Grace fer yer,’ Cook replied philosophically. ‘Got a heart o’ pure gold, that one has, so ’as that sister of ’ers. Young Martha is tendin’ to her gran at present.’

‘Yes, well, I must get back upstairs now, but I thought I would let you all know the good news. The doctor will be staying, at least until this evening, so perhaps we shall all be able to get some rest soon.’

The mood in the house seemed to lift a little as the day progressed, but then as night fell they were all too soon presented with yet another tragedy.

Lifting the jug from the small table at the side of Miss Melody’s bed, Grace whispered, ‘I’ll just pop down to the kitchen an’ get ’er some fresh water whilst she’s restin’ easy.’

‘Very well, dear.’ Miss Prim smiled and settled further down into the comfortable chair that Leonard had had brought into the room for her. But she had barely laid her head back when a loud bang on the landing outside had her jumping upright.

‘Whatever was that?’ she asked the young Master but he was already on his way to the door.

The second he threw the door open they found Grace in a heap on
the
landing carpet, doubled up with pain, and without wasting a second he snapped at Miss Prim, ‘Run down to the kitchen and get the doctor, would you? I’ll carry her into that bedroom there. And get Bertie too whilst you’re at it.’