Ghost Stories - Lorna Bradbury [3]
It was such a shock when he was born. his beautiful face had been covered with a fine, gossamer-like membrane.
‘Oh my goodness, look at that!’ the hospital midwife had exclaimed.
‘whatever is it?’ Lisa had panicked, feeling sick to the stomach; she hadn’t even seen him yet – what on earth was wrong with him?
‘It’s a caul,’ her mother had enlightened her afterwards. ‘They’re very rare. it hasn’t hurt him. it sometimes happens when the amniotic sac attaches itself to the baby’s face. it’s most unusual, but people born with a caul are believed to be very fortunate. it’s thought, round here, that if you dry it out, keep it safe and carry it with you, then you will never die by drowning. Sailors would pay you a lot of money for it!’
Lisa’s thoughts drifted. watching from her window, she thought of all those who risked their lives each day, bravely scouring the seas for their livelihoods. The sea was remorseless and unforgiving. it kept every drowned body for its own pleasure.
Her gaze skimmed across the harbour. Sleek, shiny yachts had moored alongside bigger working tugs and fishing boats. Metal halyards strummed urgently in the rising wind as masts swayed urgently to and fro. once a busy fishing village, it was now a safe harbour that entertained passing yachts. Visiting sailors moored up briefly and then left to explore further down the coast. The small granite-walled cottages, built for fishermen, now only opened up for tourists during the summer, and remained eerily empty at this time of year.
Their cottage was tall and narrow, three storeys high. only the front door was at street level. The lower floors had been carved out of the cliff face centuries ago. once inside a steep, stone, spiral staircase opened in front of you. Two low-ceilinged rooms, either side, were cosily furnished. Two bedrooms were on the floor below.
She sat in the baby’s room, watching the sea in the harbour. a big picture window gave her ample opportunity to gaze, and a peaceful newborn gave her plenty of time to indulge her thoughts. Every day she lost herself in his beautiful blue eyes. She saw every kind of feeling wavering in their depths like seaweed at the bottom of a clear sea.
She hadn’t had much sleep last night. She tried not to wake Dan too much. he was the main breadwinner now. his work was tough and hazardous – he couldn’t skipper the fishing boat if he was tired. She felt guilty, as she always secretly enjoyed watching bad weather coming in. The contrast between their warm cottage and the approaching dark grey clouds bringing a relentless downpour of rain made her shiver with pleasure.
The ring of the doorbell startled her. Checking the baby hadn’t woken, she hurried up the stone stairs. as she opened the door, the wind caught her breath. The door hammered against its frame.
‘Come in, come in, please.’ She shouldered the heavy door to shut out the storm, as her visitor ducked into the room.
‘Good morning Mrs Penrose.’ The woman smiled efficiently.
‘Good morning. what terrible weather. Can you believe it? i’ve been watching it get worse all morning. it’s playing havoc with my geraniums. There’ll be nothing left if the rain doesn’t let up. Jenny phoned earlier, told me about the ferry, and told me you’d be coming instead. hopefully it can start running again soon … if the storm blows itself out, of course.’
She paused, silently cursing herself. why did she talk so much, so fast? She was gabbling like a mad woman. She was sure the midwife didn’t want to hear about geraniums. Since the birth, Lisa had been alone too much.
‘The birth – was it easy?’ the woman enquired abruptly.
‘Yes, yes.’ She hesitated, puzzled. She had been through all the details with Jenny, her midwife, including telling her