A Home For Her Baby. Eleanor Jones

Чтение книги онлайн.

       CHAPTER THREE

      ALI GROANED, clutching at her shoulder, her heart beating erratically as the memories kicked in... The boat...the sea...and Bobby; it was just a bad dream...had to be a bad dream. The agony in her arm said otherwise and she dragged herself up from her awkward position on the couch, crying out with the pain. She must have slept, but how could she, after everything?

      Outside, bizarrely, the sun was shining, bringing a sparkle to the tranquil ocean, just as if it was an ordinary day. But it could never be ordinary again could it...not ever. Bobby was dead because of her and she had no right to be alive. Wracked by sobs she walked to the window, looking out at the scene that only yesterday she’d loved with a passion. Now it felt as if the sea was laughing at her, mocking her with its feigned serenity. A wave of dizziness washed over her and she shuddered. She needed to go to the hospital, she knew that, but it just felt so wrong. Why should she be free of pain when nothing could be done for Bobby?

      Her car was parked outside. All she had to do was climb inside, put the key into the ignition, start the engine and drive herself to the hospital: a simple task that seemed almost impossible without the use of her right arm. Almost, she told herself determinedly, picking up her car keys with her left hand...

      By the time Ali had managed to get into the driver’s seat she felt totally exhausted. Not only were her arm and shoulder screaming with objection, her whole body seemed to be rebelling. She felt sick and dizzy and her skin was rimed with cold sweat. Gritting her teeth she tried to put the key into the ignition with her left hand, wishing she’d done it before she got into her seat. When the keys dropped to the floor with a heavy jangling sound it all became too much. She slumped forward, giving way to a huge wave of dizziness, and rested her forehead heavily on the steering wheel.

      She didn’t know how long she’d been like that when she sensed a presence outside the car window. It might have been minutes or it might have been hours for she was in an empty place where time was lost in the weight of the past.

      “Move over.” She heard the voice somewhere in her subconscious, a man’s voice, deep and familiar. A tingle of warmth crept through her veins as she turned awkwardly to see Tom standing by the door. “Move over,” he repeated gruffly.

      Soundlessly, she did as she was asked, gratefully making the transition from driver to passenger in a series of painful shunts. He opened the door and climbed in, sitting down heavily. His face was gaunt and set, staring soundlessly ahead. She wanted to say something, for him to say something, but a heavy cloud of silence settled over them. “Keys?” he eventually managed and when she gestured toward the floor he reached down and picked them up, putting them into the ignition and starting the engine.

      The world outside the car was a fuzzy blur to Ali as they headed through the village and out onto the main road. Sea and sand and sky, buildings, cars and passers-by, all became one intermingled image as the miles sped by. The hospital sign was the first thing she really saw. Bright and bold it sprang out at her, offering comfort from the pain she so deserved... She glanced across to where Tom sat still, his expression unfathomable. Why had he helped her, she wondered, after...? And how had he known?

      “Accident & Emergency is just there,” he said, staring ahead as if unable to look at her.

      She dragged herself from the car and headed for the double doors, leaning on the wall for support. And then he was beside her, taking her good arm and guiding her into the dazzling brightness. The woman at the desk looked up at them with a toothy smile. “Yes?” she said. “Can I have your name please?”

      It was Tom who answered, his tone abrupt. “Her name is Ali Nicholas. She’s hurt her arm.”

      “And you are...?”

      “I just gave her a lift... I’ll leave her with you now.”

      When he walked away without a backward glance Ali wanted to cry.

      * * *

      TOM DROVE ON AUTOMATIC, unable to process the events of the last twelve hours. His mother and younger sister, Lily, had taken the news badly and looked at him with accusation in their eyes. He was the one who was supposed to keep everyone safe and he’d failed. His instincts had warned him not to let Ali go out with them; he’d had enough warnings over the years. Why, just a year or so ago Ricky Biggins, an experienced fisherman and childhood friend of his, perished in a storm—fell from The Peacock and was never found. He should never have ignored his gut feeling and now it was too late...so if anyone was to blame it was he. Ali’s failing was simply ignorance.

      When his dad came home he’d placed a hand firmly on his eldest son’s shoulder. “It’s fishing, son,” he’d said. “And sometimes there’s a price we have to pay for what we do... It’s the sea that’s at fault, not you.”

      Although kindly spoken, for Tom those words had made things even worse. He didn’t deserve pity or understanding, he’d failed his family, but most of all he’d failed Bobby. “No, Dad,” he’d said sadly. “I was in charge and it should never have happened.”

      He’d walked away then from the oppressive silence that hung thick and heavy in the large homely kitchen of The Fisherman’s Inn, through the locked and empty bar and out into the impossible brightness of a late autumn afternoon. There’d been nowhere to go then but home, even though he already knew that his cozy cottage on Cove Road couldn’t provide any comfort this time.

      He saw her sitting in her car as he walked toward his cottage, just two doors down from hers. Ali! She was the last person he needed to see. He’d tried to just walk past the car where she sat so forlornly, looking determinedly the other way...but when he heard a low moan he reluctantly peered inside. She was slumped forward over the wheel, her skin the color of alabaster.

      A vague recollection slid into his foggy brain. They were searching for Bobby, scouring the surface of the raging sea with increasing desperation, when Mike said that he thought Ali might have dislocated her shoulder. It had hardly registered...until that moment. He’d looked again and knew he had to help her.

      Unable to face the hospital where they’d brought Bobby a few short hours ago, he’d intended to just drop her off. But she’d walked so slowly toward the entrance, holding on to the wall for support, that he hadn’t been able to simply leave her until she’d gone inside and seen someone. As soon as the nurse came in he took his leave and fled.

      He’d done what he could, he told himself as he’d driven away. She was in good hands, and if they released her she could easily ring a taxi. He needed to go home, to be on his own for a while to try and come to СКАЧАТЬ