A finer end - Deborah Crombie [59]
Turning away, she walked out of the yard, into the lane. The pull of the Tor drove her up the hill. As she climbed, tendrils of pain began to radiate from her pelvis round her abdomen, but she picked up her pace, ignoring them. The sun had formed an enormous red ball hovering on the horizon—if she didn’t hurry she’d have to climb in the dark. Her sense of urgency increased. She knew she must get to the top of the Tor, although she couldn’t quite formulate why. Then, as she came in sight of the entrance to the north path, a cramp caught her, doubling her over in pain and surprise.
She stopped, panting, took another step, stopped again. The pain worsened, squeezing at her. She had to get off her feet, just for a little while, make it stop. Then she would go on.
Looking round, she had seen the gap in the hedge, just big enough for her body, and when she’d crawled inside, she’d fallen instantly into a deep and dreamless sleep.
Now, fully awake, she cupped her hands round her abdomen, felt the gentle flutter of the baby turning. The pain had gone, and she realized that whatever had driven her had dissipated as well. Although it still tugged faintly at the edges of her consciousness, it was not as powerful as her desire to go home. She knew now what she had to do.
She could not betray Garnet without giving her a chance to explain herself.
Easing herself from the hedge, she looked up, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness. The sky was overcast, starless, and her only orientation was the deeper blackness of the hedges. Slowly, she made her way down the hill, watching for the glow of oil lamps that would mark the farmhouse.
But it was the white shape of the gate she saw first. Only then was she able to make out the house, a darker shadow against the Tor’s flank. There was no sign of Garnet’s van in the yard, and when Faith let herself in the unlocked back door, only the cats came to greet her.
It was fully dark by the time Jack reached the hospital. He hurried through the car park, head down against the damp, chill wind, assuring himself that no news from Maggie meant that Winnie’s condition remained stable.
But the first person he saw when he entered the ICU waiting area was Andrew Catesby, sitting with his head in his hands.
“Andrew,” he said sharply. “What’s wrong? How is she?”
Andrew looked up, dropping his hands from his face with apparent reluctance. “I don’t know. They won’t tell me anything.”
Jack swallowed, making an effort to keep his panic in check. “Have you seen her?”
“No. I—” Andrew shook his head. “I couldn’t bear it.” He stood, so that their eyes were on a level, and Jack saw that his face looked sallow and pinched, as if he were utterly exhausted. No trace remained of the boyish charm Jack had seen him display with Suzanne and Fiona.
“I’ve been here for hours,” Andrew continued. “Suzanne came, and Simon Fitzstephen, and the bishop. They all wanted to know where you were, as if her life depended on your presence. But I know the truth.” He jabbed an accusing finger at Jack. “She wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you. You and your daft ideas, and your daft friends—you’ve done this to her. We were happy on our own before you came. We had a good life. And now—now nothing will ever be the same. Maybe she’d be better off dead.”
“Andrew! You can’t mean that!”
“Can’t I?” Andrew turned and disappeared through the swinging doors.
Jack stared after him. The man was utterly mad.
Shaken, he rang the bell for admittance to the ICU. It was not Maggie who answered his summons, but an older, heavyset nurse whose name badge read “Joan.”
“You’re here to see Winifred?” she asked.
“How is she?”
“Her heart’s still playing up a bit, and that’s causing her blood pressure to drop.”
“But she’ll be all right? Can I see her?”
“We seem to have got her settled down again for the time being.” Joan glanced at her watch, then said kindly, “Fifteen minutes. Then I’ll throw you out