The weather meant that Beth would have to change her plans.
She’d spent a sleepless night with the wind and rain battering their windows and had sent Scott and Edith down to breakfast without her. She’d hoped a long bath might restore her balance but, instead, her mind played over and over what had happened the previous evening. She’d felt the strain of her fellow guests and it had made her jittery. Beth had spent the rest of the evening in a high state of tension, but the meal had progressed like those of previous nights. Scott had attempted to engage her in the latest chapter he’d written, which sounded as dull as the previous one. Edith had started off well but had grown bored and begun to play up. She’d been the one who wanted to take her to the room, but Scott had insisted and she’d not wanted to draw more attention to herself by making a scene.
Of course, it was too late. What had happened, had happened. It made no difference. Except Beth suspected there were more surprises to come, which meant she had to change her plans.
In the bathroom, she took a long shower instead of the bath, hoping it would wake her up. Afterwards, she wiped the steam from the mirror with a towel and stared at her indistinctive features in the glass. Scott always said that he’d fallen for her neck, which was supposed to be a compliment but suggested her face wasn’t much to look at. Edith had inherited her looks, which was a shame. Beth sighed. It was too late to do anything now and she must carry on as if everything were normal.
Going downstairs, she avoided the other breakfasters although Scott spotted her and gave her a chilly smile. She ignored his martyred expression and went to the sitting room. On one wall was the group of nuns, their expressions serious. On the other side of the window, the storm rallied, shaking the glass. Through the murk she saw a figure battling their way through the trees. What a fool, thought Beth. No torch or high-vis vest. If they had an accident, they’d perish before anyone realised. She leant forward and tried to identify who it was. A woman she decided. Definitely a woman.
‘Mummy.’ Edith ran to her and hugged her legs. She tensed. Edith had gone through a biting stage a year earlier and had nipped her thigh. Today she contented himself with holding on tight.
‘Where’s Daddy?’
‘Talking to the man with the stick.’
‘Did you tell Daddy you were coming to see me.’
‘Of course.’
Beth wasn’t so sure this was the case, but decided to let it go.
‘Mum? Why is that lady crying?’
Beth froze. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I heard a woman crying.’
‘Show me.’
She allowed Edith to lead her by the hand, out of the room into the passageway. ‘I can’t hear anything.’
‘There was,’ Edith’s voice rose. ‘I heard a lady crying.’
Absentmindedly, Beth patted her daughter on the head, straining to hear anything above the howl of the storm.