The Journey. Josephine Cox

      Knowing how all three of them were hanging on his every word, he continued on a more serious note, ‘I’m a little concerned about her heart and blood pressure, but I can’t be sure about anything until we do those tests. For that I’ll need her to come into hospital overnight.’

      At the mention of hospital, Adam turned pale. ‘But she will be all right, won’t she?’

      Careful how he answered, Dr Nolan momentarily lowered his gaze. Lucy Davidson was a legend in this hamlet; despite her reclusive nature, she had made many friends and as far as he knew, no enemies. She was generous, funny, honest and outspoken, and he understood why these good people should be so concerned. However, at the moment, he could only make a guess at her underlying condition. She was ill, though. There was no denying that.

      ‘Had she not worked herself into a state, I would have admitted her to hospital tonight,’ he said. ‘As it is, and because she’s calmer now, there’ll be nothing lost if we leave her till morning. She needs plenty of rest. Let her sleep, that’s the best medicine for now. I’ll be back first thing.’

      ‘But will she be all right?’ Like Adam, Mary was desperately seeking reassurance.

      ‘We can only wait and see.’ He chose his words wisely. ‘I would rather not speculate, though I won’t deny that your mother is ill,’ he said kindly. ‘She’s very weak and, as you saw for yourself, her breathing was laboured.’

      Before they could question him further, he put up a staying hand. ‘Once we get her into hospital, we’ll know more.’

      As he left, he said, ‘You may look in on her, of course … I would want you to do that. But she must not be disturbed. Rest is the best thing for her just now.’

      With the doctor gone, the mood was solemn. Ben felt as though he was intruding, but when he suggested leaving, Mary persuaded him to stay awhile. ‘I’ll go and check on Mother. Adam can put the kettle on, if he doesn’t mind?’ The little man nodded his agreement and set off for the kitchen. Mary then turned to address Ben. ‘We can all keep each other company for a while, unless you really want to leave?’

      She thought of how he had come here to Knudsden House in good faith, to return her mother’s bag, and had been quizzed relentlessly about his personal life; on top of that he had been made to think he was duty bound to ask her out one evening. Any other man would have been long gone, but she truly hoped he would stay; his presence gave her so much comfort.

      ‘I’ll stay as long as you like.’ Ben did not hesitate. ‘There’s nothing urgent waiting at home.’ He had only offered to leave out of consideration, and was delighted that she felt need of him.

      ‘I won’t be long.’ While Ben went to join Adam in the kitchen, Mary ran upstairs and crept into her mother’s bedroom. She gazed down on Lucy’s sleeping face. In the gentle light from the bedside lamp, her mother looked so much younger; her skin was clear and smooth as alabaster, and her lashes lay like spiders’ legs over the slight curve of her cheeks. Her long hair was loose about her shoulders and her wide, pretty mouth was ever so slightly turned up at the corners as in a half-smile.

      Reaching down, Mary laid her own hand over that of her mother. She could feel the warm softness of her skin, and beneath the tip of her fingers, the blood running through Lucy’s veins. Holding hands was not something she and her mother did all that often, so she felt privileged, and oddly humbled.

      Choking back the emotion, she slid her mother’s hand beneath the sheets and covered it over. She then stroked her fingers through the long greying strands of hair where they lay nestled on the pillow like silken threads; so soft in her fingers.

      She gazed long on Lucy’s face, her eyes following every feature, every shadow and shape, and all the while she wondered about her mother, and about her father. What had transpired before she was born? What was the secret that she had always known existed? And why had she never been told of her parents’ true past?

      Her heart turning with emotion and the questions burning bright in her mind, she kissed the sleeping woman and made her way back downstairs to the men. Adam had brewed the tea and was busy pouring it out. ‘She’s sleeping well,’ Mary told them, gratefully accepting the cup that was handed to her. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen her looking so peaceful.’

      ‘Thank God for that.’ Adam knew what a restless soul Lucy was, and unlike Mary he knew the reason why. ‘It will do her the world of good to sleep through the night.’ His voice fell until it was almost inaudible. ‘If she’s in a deep sleep, maybe she won’t be plagued by the bad dreams.’

      ‘What bad dreams?’ Mary had heard his quiet words and they bothered her. ‘Mother never told me about any dreams.’

      Silently cursing himself, the little man tried to dismiss his remark. ‘Oh, it’s nothing,’ he lied. ‘I recall how she once told me she’d had a bad dream, that’s all.’

      Mary wasn’t satisfied. ‘You said she was plagued. That doesn’t sound like one bad dream to me.’ She knew Adam had known her parents long before she was born, and now she realised he was part of the secret she had never been privileged to share. ‘Is there something you’re not telling me?’

      Sensing something too deep for his understanding, Ben wisely changed the subject. ‘The fire’s almost out. Shall I put more logs on?’

      Relieved that the moment was broken, Adam turned to him. ‘I think it might be a good idea,’ he said, and to Mary, ‘if that’s all right with you?’

      Having believed that she was on the verge of a long-awaited peep into the past, Mary now felt cheated. ‘Yes,’ she answered, ‘best keep the fire alive. I for one won’t be going to bed tonight.’

      Adam was horrified. ‘You must get your sleep,’ he told her. ‘I’ll stay here and keep a check on your mother. I promise to wake you if needs be.’

      Mary looked at Ben. A man of few words, he had such quiet strength. ‘Will you stay?’

      He smiled on her, a slow, easy smile that filled her heart and made her feel safe. ‘Of course. Adam’s right, though. Your mother will need you to be bright and alert tomorrow. You’ll sleep better in your bed.’

      Mary would not hear of it. ‘I’m staying here with you two. Three pairs of ears are better than one, and we can take it in turns to check in on her. Look – there are two big sofas and a deep armchair. We can all snatch a moment’s sleep when we grow tired.’

      She smiled from one to the other. ‘Meanwhile, we’ll drink our tea and talk.’ She paused. ‘The time will soon pass.’

      While Ben and Mary sipped their tea and chatted about things other than the one which pressed on their minds, Adam became increasingly agitated. By referring to Lucy’s nightmares, he had almost betrayed his long-held loyalty to her. ‘Mary must never know … promise me you won’t ever tell.’ That had been Lucy’s request to him, and though he had done everything possible for the woman he cherished, he had managed to avoid making an actual promise not to tell.

      Somewhere deep in his soul, he truly believed that one day, Mary would have to know the truth of what had happened; not least because she herself was part of that fascinating, devastating story, for without it, she would never have been born.

      Discreetly watching him, Mary saw how Adam was pacing the floor, faster and faster, until it seemed he would go crazy. She saw the panic in his face and the way he was rolling his fists together, much like her own mother did when anxious. And she knew, without a shadow of doubt, that old secrets were tearing Adam and her mother apart.

      While she watched him, Ben was watching her. And just as she had seen the anguish and pain in Adam’s eyes, he saw the very same in hers. Without a word he took her hand in his and, when she swung her gaze to him, he stroked her face, fleetingly. ‘Your mother will be fine,’ he whispered. ‘You have to believe that.’

      Mary acknowledged him with an unsure nod of the