A Song in the Night (58 page)

Later that afternoon she got dressed and went out into the garden. It was the first time she’d been outdoors in five days, and as soon as the fresh air hit her she felt that sense of disorientation that often follows a bout of viral illness. She sat on the bench and pulled her jacket tightly round her. Despite the sunshine, there was still a nip in the air, and she felt it all the more keenly for having been so long indoors. As she sat, she listened. To the whisper of the breeze in the trees. To the symphony of birdsong. To the drone of an aeroplane high in the sky, off, no doubt, to some warmer land far beyond the horizons of her own small world. For a moment she found herself wishing she were on it.

“You okay, Rosie love?” Cassie’s voice sounded from the back of the house. Rosie turned to see her coming towards the bench. She moved up to make room for her.

“Yeah. Just making an effort to get back into life.” She smiled weakly. “I feel so spaced out. Anybody’d think I’d been on the whisky for the last month.”

Cassie looked sympathetic. “You’ve been really poorly, love. It was a nasty bug, whatever it was. Still, you’re on the mend now – that’s the main thing.” She patted Rosie’s hand gently. “Let’s hope you’re ready to start your new job on Monday. We’ll have to take extra special care of you, won’t we?”

There was such a look of genuine love in her eyes that Rosie had to turn away. How could this woman, who had just buried her only daughter, treat her with such kindness and affection? She’d nursed her through the last few days as though she’d been her own flesh and blood. Rosie’s mind struggled to compute it all. She found herself wondering about Ciaran. “How’s my brother? He’s not caught it, I hope?” The thought of Cassie having to nurse both of them was almost embarrassing.

Cassie shook her head. “No, he’s not ill. Not physically anyway. But I think a virus is far easier to tend than a broken heart. There’s no medication can touch one of those, Rosie. Only the Lord can bind up the broken-hearted, but I don’t think your brother’s ready to hear that yet.”

Another aeroplane passed overhead just then, the hum of its engines faint but distinctive against the backdrop of springtime sounds. Rosie looked up at it. “Do you think he can sort anything – God, I mean?”

Cassie’s eyes widened slightly. “God …? Oh yes, Rosie. Anything.” There was no hesitation in her reply.

Rosie focused her gaze on a flowering cherry tree at the edge of the garden. Swathes of daffodils encircled its base, their pale yellow heads dancing in the soft wind; clustered in front of them, clumps of blue muscari seemed to catch the colour of the sky and thicken it to violet within their tiny petals. Everything spoke of new life, but Rosie felt empty inside

“He didn’t sort it for Beth, did he?”

Cassie looked faintly surprised. “Is that how you see it, love?”

Rosie felt a stab of guilt.
Full marks for insensitivity, girl. Maybe you should put it down to the virus. Maybe it’s left you temporarily unhinged.
But before she could stop herself, her mouth started speaking again. “I mean – she died, right? You can’t really say he sorted that situation.
Can
you?”

Cassie didn’t answer straight away. “I suppose that depends on how you look at things, Rosie.” She glanced down the garden, her face pensive. “Y’know, when the children were younger, I always used to tell them that I didn’t mind what they did in life as long as they followed the Lord and were happy. Ed was the same. We never tried to push them into doing anything. We just encouraged them to follow their dreams and keep their hearts right before God. That was all that really mattered to us. As far as we were concerned, it was up to God where he took them after that. As the boys grew up, they never lost their faith in him. They chose their paths, got married – they always served the Lord. They were easy kids to raise. Now as for our little Beth … .” Her face broke into a sad smile. “Somehow she was different. I could tell once she hit a certain age that she was going to have to go away before she could come back, if you understand.”

Rosie nodded. “I think I do.”

“In her mid-teens, I noticed she was starting to drop off church meetings. Suddenly she wouldn’t talk about things in the same way she used to. Sometimes she’d leave the room if the conversation got onto God, as though she was uncomfortable. I never tried to force her back, though my heart ached about it all. Then she got her place at music college. I prayed so hard for her, Rosie. I couldn’t bear the thought of my little girl out in the big wide world without the Lord. I prayed and prayed she’d find him again.” Cassie shook her head sadly. “Oh, don’t get me wrong. I was thrilled with the way her career was moving. We were all so proud of her. I’ll never forget that night at the Laureate last October – I must have been the proudest mother on the planet.” Her eyes began to well with tears. “But beyond all that, Rosie, the thing that still meant most to me was that she find her way back to God.” She pulled a tissue from her sleeve and dabbed at her cheeks. “Perhaps if I’d known how it would come about, I could never have prayed. It’s a good thing the future’s veiled to us, isn’t it?”

“You think God made her sick then – to get her attention? Is that what you’re saying?” Rosie was suddenly unnerved by the possibility of such a notion.

Cassie shook her head. “You know, Rosie, I don’t believe sickness is ever God’s design. When Jesus walked on earth, he went around healing people of their diseases. In fact –” There was a sudden catch in her throat. She tried to collect herself. “In fact, I’ve found myself wondering what would have happened if Jesus had walked into our home during the last days of Beth’s life. I can’t help thinking she would have still been with us.” Tears ran down Cassie’s cheeks now. “I don’t know, Rosie. Jesus often challenged his own disciples about their lack of faith. Perhaps that’s it. Perhaps we have more faith in the power of sickness to destroy us than we have in the power of God to heal us.” She shook her head again. “I just don’t know, love. I might be getting on in years, but I still have an awful lot to learn when it comes to spiritual things.”

“So you
don’t
think God made her sick?” Rosie was anxious to clarify the point.

Cassie thought for a moment. “Like I said, Rosie, I don’t believe sickness is ever God’s perfect design. But I think there’s a difference between what God designs and what God permits. The most important thing in Beth’s case was that she made her peace with her Maker. In the light of eternity, a human life – whether it spans five minutes or a hundred years – is nothing but a breath, a fleeting shadow.” Cassie gulped back a sob. “Beth will understand that now.”

Rosie felt bad as she witnessed Cassie’s distress. She wished she’d never brought the subject up. Maybe she was being selfish seeking for answers to questions that were far too big. Feeling awkward, she rubbed her hands together as though to warm them.

“You’re getting cold, Rosie.” Cassie dabbed her eyes as she spoke, her tone bearing no trace of resentment or irritation at Rosie’s indelicate probing.

“No, I’m okay,” Rosie answered quietly. “It’s nice out here. I’ve been indoors too long.”

Cassie didn’t argue. She nodded gently and pointed towards the flowering cherry. A young sparrow had landed on a birdfeeder suspended from one of the tree’s branches. It grappled clumsily on the footrest as it tried to peck at the seed. Cassie’s face relaxed into a smile. “I love watching the birds, don’t you, love? I think they have such a lot to teach us.”

They watched as another sparrow came to join the first. For a few moments the two tiny creatures broke into a squabble, pecking at each other and flicking their wings as though in territorial competition. Then, just as suddenly, the argument ended and each bird settled on its own rest and began to feed.

Cassie exhaled slowly. “You know, Rosie, I don’t pretend to understand everything. I don’t know why Beth got sick. I don’t know why she had to die, if indeed she had to die at all. All I do know is –” She pointed once more to the two small birds on the feeder. “God’s word says that not one sparrow will fall to the ground apart from the will of the Father.” She closed her eyes as though seeing the text in her mind. “
And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.
” She turned to Rosie. “Y’know, love – if it had been up to me, things would have been very different. I would never have chosen this path. But then, I don’t see the end from the beginning, and my Heavenly Father does. So I leave it in his hands. I know that one day everything will become clear. Until then I simply trust him.”

Rosie was quiet. Even in her grief and confusion Cassie portrayed uncommon serenity. Rosie could see that the trust she spoke of was absolutely genuine. It was attractive, enviable. Yet for Rosie, the words
‘trust’
and
‘father’
seemed frustratingly incompatible.

Cassie reached out and took her hand. “You asked me if God could sort anything, Rosie. And I still say – yes, he can. As I said, I don’t always understand him or the way he works. But even in those dark and difficult times, he lets me know he’s there; lets me sense his presence, gives me his peace. And somehow that makes everything alright. He’s not like anyone you’ve ever known before, Rosie. Really. He’s not like anyone you’ve ever known.”

Rosie’s heart ached. Everything in her was longing to believe Cassie’s words. It was clear now that both Cassie and Jonathon were talking about the same person. Yet there were so many things that seemed to stand in the way; things Rosie wished she could tell Cassie … things she’d never told a living soul.

But she knew she never would. She would never tell anyone. And the thought that God might already know about them was almost too much to handle.

____________

By the time Monday morning came round, Rosie was sufficiently recovered as to be able to start work. She still felt slightly fragile but was determined to give the new job her best shot. She’d arranged for a lift with Jonathon the previous evening. Now as they walked into the school together, he put his hand on her arm. “All the best, Rosie. See you at break hopefully.” And then he was gone. Was it her imagination or had he seemed a little quiet on their way here? She tried to put it out of her mind as she made her way to Helen Walker’s classroom.

Nothing about Molly Guest’s appearance suggested she’d even remotely enjoyed her Easter holiday. The child’s face seemed even paler than Rosie remembered, and her mournful eyes were underlined with dark circles. She stood in the doorway of the classroom whimpering softly as her mother attempted to push her inside.

“Come on, Molly. We’re going to have fun today,” Helen cajoled, skilfully concealing her exasperation as she tried to prise the girl’s fingers from her mother’s sleeve. Rosie felt sorry for the young mother as she watched the scene. The woman was clearly distressed as she uttered apologies first to Helen and then to the child. Helen signalled to Rosie to come over. “Mrs Guest, this is Rosie Maconochie. She’s standing in for Mrs Vardy. She’ll be keeping a close eye on your daughter. Don’t worry – Molly always settles down once you’ve left.”

Looking barely convinced, the mother nodded gratefully, and with a final gentle pull managed to extricate herself from her daughter’s grasp. Once the door was shut, Rosie and Helen exchanged glances.

“Looks like we
are
going to have fun today,” Helen muttered under her breath. “Boy, am I glad
you’re
here.”

The first part of the morning went slowly. Molly remained subdued, refusing to speak or write a word. During Literacy, Helen did a tour of the tables to observe how each child was getting on. When she arrived at Molly’s table she shrugged resignedly. “Looks like she’s having one of those days, Rosie. She used to do this sometimes with Lydia. I doubt we’ll force anything out of her today. No point getting your hair off about it … just do what you can.”

Easier said than done,
thought Rosie as she watched Molly scribbling agitatedly on a piece of rough paper.

At breaktime, Rosie offered to stay in the classroom and keep an eye on the girl. It was clear that keeping her out of the playground was going to be the best option for the moment.

Helen frowned. “Are you sure, Rosie? I would have stayed in with her myself.”

“No, you’re okay. Might give me chance to get to know her a bit, away from all the other kids.”
Better show willing,
she thought stoically,
seeing as it’s my first day.

But getting to know Molly was no easy task. Despite Rosie’s best efforts to engage her in conversation, the girl sat staring at the table, her only contribution to the exchange being the odd shake or nod of the head. About five minutes before the end of break, the classroom door opened unexpectedly. The sound of it made Rosie jump and she spun round to see who’d come in.

“Hi, Rosie. Brought you a drink –” Jonathon’s brightness faded as he frowned and nodded towards Molly. “Is she okay?”

Rosie turned again to see the child hunched over, her face pressed down against the table, her arms wrapped around her head.

Jonathon studied her for a moment. “Perhaps it’s best I leave you two alone. Just thought I’d bring you a coffee anyway. Catch up with you later.”

When Jonathon had gone, Rosie put her arm around Molly’s shoulder. “Come on, Molly. What’s wrong?” But even as she spoke, she felt the girl’s frame go rigid beneath her touch. She withdrew her hand and sat back, wondering how best to proceed. Moments later Helen arrived.

“Everything alright?” She glanced at Molly and shot Rosie a sympathetic look. “Don’t worry, I’ll hold the fort at dinnertime. I’ve some work to do anyway. She’ll be able to stay in here with me.”

Rosie felt secretly relieved. So far, her first day’s efforts with Molly had proved nothing short of unfruitful. Suddenly she looked forward to the prospect of escaping the confines of the classroom.

When dinnertime came, she made her way to the staffroom and took her lunch out of the fridge. She spotted a spare seat next to a young woman with bobbed red hair and striking green eyes. “Okay if I sit here?”