‘Mary, come back inside, it’s pitch black out there.’
‘I can’t breathe.’ Mary stood on the back doorstep. These days it felt as though her lungs were being squashed upwards by her stomach. She turned her face up as the rain started; fat slow drops at first and then faster until they hurt as they hit her face, plastering her hair to her scalp, her dress to her heavy body. For a few minutes she revelled in it, the sensation on her hot skin almost stilling the dreadful fear that had engulfed her from the moment Ellen had burst through the door. Then it came back in a wave of anguish. ‘Do you think she’s out in this? Do you think she’s hiding, frightened in the dark?’ Her voice caught in her throat. ‘She hates the dark, Jean.’
‘I think you’ll catch your death out there.’ Jean pulled her back into the kitchen. ‘And it’s helping nothing and nobody, you getting in a state.’ She spoke briskly, hiding her own anxiety and self-reproach. ‘Here, dry yourself off.’ She handed Mary a towel. ‘Go and get into your nightie and dressing gown. We’ll have a brew. And try not to wake the children. I’ve put them all into the one bed in Ellen and Ted’s room for now.’
Mary dragged herself upstairs. She was sure they got steeper every day. Her calves ached. She tried to ignore the nagging pain in her groin. On the landing she stopped to get her breath and looked across into the bedroom, watching the sleeping children. Three where there should be four, she thought, a lump in her throat. Jacqueline had both arms around the two boys. William had his thumb in his mouth, his curled forefinger pressed against his nose. Jack was on his back, his mouth slightly open. But there was something wrong. She took a step towards the bed. Jacqueline was very still but her eyelids flickered.
‘Jacqueline,’ Mary whispered, ‘are you awake, love?’
There was no reply but her mouth turned downwards. Suddenly her chest heaved and she sat up. The two babies rolled together to the middle of the bed behind her as she held out her arms to Mary.
‘Auntie Mary, it’s my fault Linda’s gone,’ she wailed. ‘I should have gone to the chippie but I was cross ’cos I didn’t have any pennies left. If I hadn’t bought that ice cream, I would have had enough for chips.’
‘Shush love, come here.’ Mary reached over and lifted Jacqueline from the bed. She felt the pull on her stomach as the sturdy little arms clung around her. ‘Come on, come with me while I get changed.’
‘Sit there on my bed,’ she said, after they’d crossed the landing, stepping out of her dress and reaching for her dressing gown. ‘Now…’ She sat next to her niece. ‘Tell me what happened.’
‘None of this is your fault,’ Mary said, when Jacqueline had sobbed out her story, ‘and Linda will be back before we know it. Now, I want you to close your eyes, it’s been a long day. You can sleep with me tonight, if that’s what you’d like?’ Jacqueline nodded, her face blotched with crying.
It didn’t take long. Mary lay alongside her, stroking the little girl’s hair until her breathing became slow and steady. Despite her words, the thought of Linda out there, alone, filled Mary with dread. She rolled onto her back and closed her eyes. Come back to us, sweetheart, she thought. Dear God let her be safe, don’t let anything happen to her.
‘Mary? What are you doing?’ Jean stood by the bed, her outline against the landing light. ‘I thought you were coming downstairs. I’ve been waiting.’ She clasped and unclasped her hands. ‘What’s Jacqueline doing in here?’
‘She was upset but she’s okay now.’
‘I hope so. She was in such a state earlier.’ Jean looked around the room. ‘Are you staying up here, then?’
‘I might as well.’ Mary didn’t tell her friend about the dull ache in her abdomen. ‘I can keep an eye on the children.’ She watched Jean move restlessly from one foot to the other.
‘Look,’ Jean said all at once, ‘I can’t stand this. Do you mind if I go out as well? The kids are asleep, they’re no bother and I’m going mad sitting around waiting for news.’
Mary glanced at the clock; the green luminous hands showed two o’clock. ‘It’s the middle of the night. Patrick wouldn’t want you going out on your own at this time.’ It was the only thing she could think of but as soon as she’d spoken she knew it was the wrong thing to say.
‘The time’s gone when I worried about what Patrick wants.’
‘You don’t mean that, love.’
‘Jack?’ It was more an answer than a question.
‘I know.’ Keeping an eye on the sleeping girl Mary inched her way into a sitting position, pushing up the pillows behind her. ‘But I’ve seen you with Jack.’
Jean pushed her glasses further up on the bridge of her nose. ‘Hmm.’ Behind the frames her eyes were swollen.
Even married to Patrick, with all his shenanigans, over the years, it struck Mary that she hadn’t seen her friend cry so much as she had tonight. Being partly responsible for losing Linda must be soul-destroying for Jean. But Mary couldn’t bring herself to say that. So instead she persisted. ‘I’ve seen how good you are with him when you think no one’s watching.’ Mary squeezed Jean’s hand. ‘I know how much you love Patrick and I do think he’s learned his lesson, you know.’
Jean gave a sniff.
‘And I think,’ Mary hesitated, ‘I think, if you want to stay with him, if you want to try to make your marriage work, you’ll have to accept that Jack’s here to stay.’
‘It’s hard.’ Jean sat next to Mary and hunched forward, her hands, palm to palm, pressed between her knees. Jacqueline murmured in her sleep and turned onto her side. They waited a couple of minutes, watching her, before Jean said, ‘She loves him, the baby, you know.’
‘I know. What will you do?’ Mary saw Jean’s shoulders hunch.
‘I don’t know. Take things day by day, I suppose, see how things go.’ She sighed. ‘But to be honest, Mary, I can’t think about that now. I have got to look for Linda. It’s as much my fault as Ellen’s and she’s still out there in all this weather. We should have been watching the girls but we just got talking in the yard at the back of the pub.’
Mary leaned back on the pillows. She felt incredibly tired. ‘If you must go, take that torch in the sideboard. And, please, just stick to the main streets. After yesterday there’re bound to be some drunks still lurking around.’
Jean bent over and kissed Mary’s cheek. ‘I will, don’t worry. And try not to fret about Linda, it will be fine.’
How many times had that been said over the last few hours?