The Girl by the River (2 page)

‘Don’t look so worried, dear,’ Kate beamed at him. ‘We’ve got a beautiful baby girl – and she’s big and healthy. I’m sorry I made all that fuss,
dear. You must have been pacing the floor.’ She patted the damask bedspread which Dykie had smoothed and straightened to bring some order into the room. ‘It’s all right, dear, you
can sit on the bed.’ Kate reached out and took his hand. She pulled it to her face and leaned her hot cheek against it. ‘I do love you, Freddie, more than anyone on earth. And
I’ll soon be up and about again, cooking dinner and bossing you about.’

Freddie wanted to smile, but his face felt rigid with the hours of anxiety. ‘Let’s look at the baby then,’ he said. He hadn’t told Kate how afraid he was that another
baby would distract her from loving him with all her heart.

He leaned over her to see the baby who was tightly wrapped in a shawl his mother had made. They both gazed at the tiny, crumpled face. ‘She’s sleeping,’ Kate said fondly,
touching the baby’s brow with a caring finger, trying to smooth away the delicate furrow of a frown. ‘She’s already had a suck, and she’s really strong. We’re so
blessed, Freddie. Two healthy little girls. Well . . . say something!’

‘Who does she look like?’ Freddie asked, and the baby girl opened her eyes right on cue and stared up at him. His blood ran cold. Pale blue eyes with a core of gold. He looked at
Kate, and they both spoke at once. ‘Ethie!’

There was a silence.

Mesmerised by the baby’s gaze, Freddie offered a long calloused finger, ingrained with oil and stone dust. The baby grasped it and clung. It took Freddie’s breath away. This tiny
being had claimed him. She had him forever. And she looked like Ethie.

He remembered his vision of Ethie, years ago, long before she had been swept to her death by the Severn Bore. He’d seen her floating on her back in the speeding brown water, her hair
twisting with the creamy curl of the foam, her eyes glaring a last glare, her blue lips forming words, ‘I’ll be back – I’ll be back.’

‘Penny for them?’ said Kate. Freddie’s silences were like green apples. They took a long time on the tree to get ripe, and when they did, the result was usually amazing, or
funny or prophetic.

‘Well,’ Freddie hesitated, still feeling the powerful grip of that small fist around his finger. He looked into Kate’s amber brown eyes and saw the sunlight which was always in
there like the view of a cottage garden from the stone archways of his fear. ‘I hope she won’t turn out like Ethie.’

Kate looked determined. ‘Well, if she does, dear, then we must love her and support her. Ethie was a tormented soul. None of us understood what made her so difficult, but she had good in
her too. She was clever, and deep – too deep for her own good, really. You’ll be a wonderful father, Freddie. You’re so good with Lucy.’

‘Ah. Maybe.’ Freddie felt a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. He tried to forget the sparrowhawk, and its menace. He knew it was gloomy thinking, like his mother. Fearful
and negative. He didn’t want to be like that. Or like his father.

‘’Tis powerful,’ he said, ‘what we inherit from our parents. My old dad – he had a terrible temper – he’d smash every plate in the kitchen, and cry with
shame. I vowed I would never be like him.’

‘And you aren’t,’ Kate said firmly.

‘I’m all right – with you in my life.’ Freddie put his other hand gently over Kate’s brow. Her hair felt damp, her skin hot.

‘Ooh, that’s lovely, lovely and cold,’ she said, and closed her eyes, soaking up the healing energy that came from Freddie’s large hand. He wouldn’t say so, but she
knew what he was doing – sending her strength and peace in a way that came naturally to him. ‘You’re making me better.’

Freddie glanced at the mound of Kate’s body under the quilt. ‘Is – is everything all right – down there?’ he asked. ‘You know what I mean.’

‘Yes, dear. Everything’s all right,’ Kate beamed at him and her smile flooded his world with light. Those words – ‘everything’s all right’, the way Kate
said them with such assurance, had rescued him countless times from the maelstrom of anxiety that swirled around in his soul, dragging him into itself.

Gently extracting his finger from the baby’s fist, Freddie went to the window. The sparrowhawk had gone, and cockerels were crowing all over Monterose. The smell of steam drifted through
the open window from the station, and the sounds of shunting engines, shouting men, and people whistling as they rode down the street on creaking bicycles. One particular bicycle with high
handlebars and a basket on the front was moving fast under the vigorously pedalling feet of a small, square woman who was riding it towards the house, her face shining like an apple.

‘Here’s your mother!’ said Freddie, and just stopped himself from reminding Kate that Sally, her mother, had been hoping for a boy.

‘She’ll be thrilled.’ Kate looked down fondly at the new baby girl. ‘You’re going to meet your granny.’

‘I gotta get to work,’ said Freddie.

‘Oh, stay for a minute, won’t you?’ implored Kate. ‘We must choose a name. And Lucy must see her little sister.’

Dykie put her head round the door. ‘Lucy won’t come upstairs,’ she said. ‘I didn’t want to force her. She seems a bit upset. I think she wants her daddy.’

Freddie ran downstairs, the money jingling in his pockets. He paused by the kitchen door, startled by the conversation going on between Lucy and Sally.

‘Mummy doesn’t like my baby sister,’ Lucy announced.

‘Course she does. All mummies love their babies,’ said Sally briskly.

‘But not THIS baby. She’s a bad baby.’

‘Oh, don’t be silly, Lucy. She can’t be a bad baby when she’s only just been born. There’s no such thing as a bad baby.’

‘I’m not being silly, Granny.’

‘Don’t you stamp your foot at me, young lady,’ said Sally. ‘Now come on. You come upstairs with Gran and we’ll see what we think of the new baby. You might like
her!’

‘I won’t,’ Lucy muttered. She looked up and saw Freddie in the doorway. ‘I want Mummy. I want Mummy to come downstairs. I don’t want a baby sister. Baby sisters are
bad.’

Freddie nodded at Sally. ‘’Tis a girl,’ he said. ‘Strong as an ox, she is. You go up. I’ll take Lucy out in the garden.’

‘Is Kate all right?’ Sally asked.

‘Seems to be – yes – but . . .’

‘But?’

Freddie hesitated. ‘It was – she had a bad time – worn her out.’

Sally nodded. ‘She’ll get over it. You know Kate, always looking on the bright side.’

Freddie picked up Lucy, who was clinging to his legs, and together they watched Sally bustling up the stairs proudly carrying a tiny yellow and white matinee set she had knitted for her new
grandchild.

Lucy rarely cried, but she did now, snuggled against Freddie’s shoulder. Freddie maintained a calming silence, his eyes waiting for the moment when Lucy would look up at him. Then he would
send her his love, wordlessly, his big hand patting and stroking the child’s small, indignant back.

‘Where’s Granny Annie?’ sobbed Lucy, looking at the Bakery Cottage next door.

‘She’s still asleep,’ Freddie said quietly. ‘See, the curtains are closed. It’s early in the morning. Granny Annie can see the new baby later.’ He was glad he
hadn’t woken Annie. She would have been worrying twice as much as he was, about the birth.

A late red rose was hanging over the wall. He sniffed its fragrance, and immediately sensed the presence of a bright spirit. A blaze of light. A smile. A scent of honeysuckle. A pair of wise,
familiar eyes. Granny Barcussy! His beloved Gran who had died when he was a child. Freddie looked at Lucy, wondering if she had seen her too, but he was pretty sure she hadn’t.

‘Let the flowers do the talking,’ said Granny Barcussy, and he felt her touch his arm. Then she vanished into the light, leaving him a feeling of warm acceptance. Had she led him
towards that red rose?

He put Lucy down and looked into her eyes. ‘You pick Mummy some flowers.’ He took a penknife from his pocket, opened it and neatly cut the red rose. ‘No – wait a
minute,’ he said, as Lucy held out her hand for it. ‘Let Daddy trim the prickles off.’

Smiling now, Lucy waited while he neatly shaved the prickles from the stem, and gave her the rose. Freddie watched her staring at it and he sensed that the vibrant life in the flower was
radiating love and warmth. Lucy darted all over the garden, picking Michaelmas daisies, sprigs of mint and rosemary. She arranged them round the red rose and brought him the posy. ‘Some
string, Daddy?’

‘Ah – string.’ Freddie rummaged in the depths of his jacket pocket and found a grubby curl of white string. ‘That do?’

Lucy nodded, beaming. ‘You tie it, Daddy,’ and she put the posy down on the broad back of the lion he had carved from Bath stone.

‘This is a reef knot,’ he told her as he tied the stems together. ‘Left over right and right over left. It’s strong, see?’

‘You are clever, Daddy,’ Lucy looked at him adoringly, her eyes shining now. Freddie felt energised by her joy. He fished in his pockets again, wanting to see Lucy’s eyes shine
even brighter.

‘There you are – a silver sixpence for the baby, and a silver shilling for you. Don’t lose it now.’

Lucy gasped. ‘Thank you, Daddy!’ She flashed him a smile and ran into the house, clutching the flowers and the coins. Freddie strode after her, pleased to see her white-blonde curls
bouncing as she ran. He couldn’t describe the magic of making Lucy happy. It was a blessing in his life.

He followed her upstairs, smiling as he listened to Kate’s cheerful voice. Lucy was on the bed, curled against her mother, and she had dumped the posy on Kate’s heart. Sally was
walking around with the new baby in her arms.

‘We’ve got to choose a name,’ she said, looking down at the baby with her eyes full of tears.
Old tears
, thought Freddie.
Tears for Ethie
!

‘Who is she like?’ he asked.

Sally didn’t hesitate. ‘Ethie,’ she said. ‘I saw it straight away. It’s like – like she IS Ethie, reborn. Ethie was exactly like this, and a difficult birth.
So why not call her Ethie? It’s short for Etheldra.’

‘No,’ said Freddie and Kate together, and Freddie bit back the comment that burned on his tongue. He felt the name Ethie would be a curse on the new little baby.

‘What do you think, dear?’ Kate asked him, and he noticed that her face was suddenly pale, her eyes half closed.

‘Something plain and simple,’ Freddie said. He watched the tiny baby who was staring at him over Sally’s shoulder, her pale blue eyes burning with intensity.
‘Tessa,’ he said. ‘How about that?’

‘Hmm. Tessa. We haven’t got a Tessa in the family,’ Sally said. ‘We could call her Tessie for short.’

‘What do you think, Kate? – KATE!’ Freddie turned to look at Kate, shocked to see her eyes closed, her face drained of colour, her eyelids blue, her sweet lips unmoving. He
took her hand. It was limp. ‘KATE! Something’s wrong. Call Dykie up.’

‘Mummy’s asleep,’ said Lucy firmly.

Everything happened quickly. Dykie came running up the stairs. ‘You take Lucy downstairs, Sally – and the baby – for now. And you, Freddie – best leave the room,’
she said, but Freddie stayed close, holding Kate’s limp hand, his thumb fondling the plain gold wedding ring and the diamond engagement ring she wore so proudly.

‘Don’t look,’ said Dykie, and she rolled the quilt back over Kate’s body. Freddie caught a glimpse of blood-stained sheets.

‘Oh my goodness!’ Dykie’s eyes flashed up at him, dark and afraid. ‘She must go to hospital. Immediately. No time to telephone—’

‘I’ll take her in the lorry. You hold the doors open – and find some towels, will you please?’ Freddie wrapped an old tartan rug around Kate’s shoulders, flung the
sheets back and lifted her. ‘Never mind the blood,’ he said, and, unexpectedly, tears ran down his cheeks and dripped from his chin. In a daze, he carried her down the stairs with Dykie
running ahead, and Sally white-faced in the kitchen doorway, the baby screaming in her arms. ‘Get some cushions for her – and you get in the back with her.’

Sally came running with two brown cushions from the sofa. Between them they bundled Kate into the back of the lorry which was half full of stones from the quarry. A trail of blood was left along
the garden path and into the road.

‘You look after the children – please,’ Freddie said to the distraught Sally who was close to panic, ‘and keep calm.’

‘My girl. Please, please God, don’t take my girl.’ Sally was openly weeping and staring at the sky. ‘Don’t take our Kate – she’s all we’ve got
– please God.’

Dykie climbed into the back of the lorry with Kate, her navy blue skirt getting covered in stone dust. ‘The baby will have to go with her,’ she called to Sally. ‘See if you can
get someone to help – then bring her up in the pram.’

Freddie didn’t usually swear at his lorry, but he did now. ‘Start, you bugger. Bloody well start.’ The engine spluttered into life and he put his foot down and roared up the
hill to Monterose Hospital where Kate had worked as a nurse in the years before Lucy was born. ‘All that love she gave,’ he muttered as he drove furiously. ‘Now it’s gotta
come back to her – oh God – if I lost her . . .’ His whole body was shaking uncontrollably as he turned into the hospital drive. He braked carefully, not wanting to jolt his
precious cargo, and Dykie leapt down and ran into the hospital.

Shaking and terrified, Freddie managed to lift Kate down from the lorry. She opened her eyes and looked up at him. ‘My baby?’ she said. ‘Where’s my baby girl?’

‘Your mother’s got her. Don’t try to talk, Kate – my love. You lie quiet.’

The doors of the hospital burst open and two nurses in starched hats, and a burly porter rushed towards them with a trolley. Freddie stood, mesmerised, with Kate in his arms, and he didn’t
want to let her go. He pulled the tartan rug tightly round her. ‘That was Ethie’s blanket,’ she said, in a voice like a dry leaf. Freddie felt her trembling in his arms, and the
morning sun lit her pale cheeks. Her skin looked grey, like the face of the stone angel.

‘Put her on here.’ The porter helped Freddie to gently lie Kate on the high trolley. He smiled confidently. ‘Don’t you worry, sir – we’ll take good care of
her.’