Come Fly With Me...: English Girl in New York / Moonlight in Paris. Fiona Brand

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      Mrs Van Dyke smiled. ‘I just do. Years of experience. I think he might have been a few weeks early.’ She touched his face again. ‘But his jaundice will settle in a few days. Have you been putting him next to the window, letting the daylight get to him?’

      Carrie nodded. ‘Dan has a friend who is a paediatrician at Angel’s Hospital. She told us what to do. I just wish we could actually get him there so he could be checked over.’

      ‘He doesn’t need to be checked. He’s fine. As for the wind—he’s a new baby. It will settle.’ She slid her hands under his arms and sat him upright. ‘It’s a big adjustment being out in the big bad world. A few days ago he was in a dark cocoon, being fed and looked after. Now he’s got to learn to do it for himself.’

      Carrie felt a prickle of unease. ‘I wish Dan felt like that.’

      Mrs Van Dyke’s eyes were on her in a flash. ‘Felt like what?’ There was the tiniest sharp edge to her voice. A protective element. Just like the way Carrie felt towards Abraham. It heightened Carrie’s awareness. Mrs Van Dyke had known Daniel since he was a child. What else did she know?

      Carrie gave a sigh. ‘Dan doesn’t think that Abraham’s mother cared about him at all. He doesn’t think she looked after him. He thinks she might have been a drug user.’

      She could see Mrs Van Dyke’s shoulders stiffen and straighten slightly. Maybe she was wrong to use the drug word around someone so elderly.

      But Mrs Van Dyke just shook her head. ‘No.’ Her eyes were focused entirely on Abraham. ‘His mother wasn’t a drug user.’

      Carrie leaned back against the leather sofa. Even though it looked ancient, it was firm and comfortable. Much more comfortable than Dan’s modern one. How many people had rested on this sofa over the years, laid their hands on the slightly worn armrests and heard the pearls of wisdom from Mrs Van Dyke?

      ‘Then what happened?’ She gave a sigh. ‘I just can’t get my head around it. I keep thinking of all the reasons in the world that would make you give up your baby, and none of them are good enough. None of them come even close. I keep thinking of alternatives—all reasons a mum could keep her baby. None of them lead to this.’

      ‘Not every woman will have the life that you’ve had, Carrie.’ The words were quiet, almost whispered and spoken with years of experience. The intensity of them brought an unexpected flood of tears to Carrie’s eyes.

      Her voice wavered. ‘You say that as if I’ve lived a charmed life.’

      ‘Haven’t you?’

      She shook her head firmly. ‘I don’t think so. Last year I lost my daughter. I had a stillbirth.’ She looked over at Abraham, her voice still wavering. ‘I came to New York to get away from babies—to get away from the memories.’

      Mrs Van Dyke was silent for a few moments. Maybe Carrie had stunned her with her news, but, in truth, Mrs Van Dyke didn’t look as if anyone would have the capability of stunning her.

      Her answer was measured. ‘It seems as if we’ve shared the heartache of the loss of a child. At least with Peter, I had a chance to get to know him a little. To get to share a little part of his life. I’m sorry you didn’t get that opportunity, Carrie.’

      The sincerity in her words was clear. She meant every single one of them. And even though Carrie didn’t know her well, it gave her more comfort than she’d had in a long time. Maybe this was all on her. She’d kept so much bottled up inside for so long. She didn’t want to share. And now, in New York, the only two people she’d shared with had shown her sincerity and compassion—even though they were virtual strangers.

      ‘You had five children, didn’t you?’

      Mrs Van Dyke nodded. ‘Peter was my youngest. David, Ronald, Anne and Lisbeth all have families of their own now.’

      ‘Are any of them still in New York?’

      There was a sadness in Mrs Van Dyke’s eyes. ‘Sadly, no. David’s in Boston. Ronald’s in Washington. Lisbeth married a lovely Dutch man and is back in Holland. Anne found herself a cowboy and lives on a ranch in Texas. She spends most of her time trying to persuade me to go and live with her and her family.’ Mrs Van Dyke showed some pride in her eyes. ‘She has a beautiful home—a beautiful family. But I find Texas far too hot. I visit. Daniel takes me to the airport and I go and stay with Anne for part of the winter. But New York is home to me now. It always will be.’ She hesitated for a moment, before looking at Carrie with her pale grey eyes. ‘And Peter’s here, of course. I would never leave my son.’

      It was as if a million tiny caterpillars decided to run over her skin. Tiny light pinpricks all over.

      Ruby. Her tiny white remembrance plaque in a cemetery in London. She’d visited it the day she left and wondered if anyone would put flowers there while she was gone. The chances were unlikely. Most people had moved on.

      Part of her felt sympathy for Mrs Van Dyke not wanting to leave her beloved son. Should she feel guilty for coming to New York? All she felt was sad. Ruby wasn’t there any more. Her talismans were in the box upstairs and in her heart—not on the little white plaque next to hundreds of others.

      She was trying to put things into perspective. Her past situation and the current one. Trying to find a reason for Abraham’s mother’s behaviour.

      Mrs Van Dyke’s voice cut through her thoughts. ‘You have to remember, Carrie. Our children belong to God. We’re only given them on loan from heaven. Sometimes God calls them home sooner than we expected.’

      The words of the wise. A woman who’d had years to get over the death of her young son, but it was clearly still as raw today as it had been at the time. But here she was, with the help of her faith, rationalising the world around her. Getting some comfort from it.

      Carrie moved from the sofa and knelt on the ground next to Mrs Van Dyke’s armchair. ‘Then why would we waste any of that precious time? Why would we want to miss out on the first feed, the first smile? It’s all far too precious, far too fleeting to give it up so easily. I can’t believe that Abraham’s mother doesn’t care. I can’t believe she abandoned him without a second thought.’

      ‘It’s a sad world, Carrie. But sometimes we have to realise that not everyone has the same moral standing and beliefs that you and I have. Not everyone values babies and children the way that they should.’

      It was a complete turnaround. The absolute opposite of what she’d expected Mrs Van Dyke to say. But as she watched the elderly face, she realised Mrs Van Dyke was lost—stuck in a memory someplace. She wasn’t talking about the here and now; she was remembering something from long ago.

      It sent a horrible, uncomfortable feeling down her spine. She’d seen the awful newscasts about abused and battered children. She’d seen the adverts for foster carers for children whose parents didn’t want them any more. The last thing she wanted was for Abraham to end up in any of those categories. It was just unthinkable.

      She was staring at him again. Transfixed by his beautiful skin and blinking blue eyes. ‘I just can’t think of him like that. I just have the oddest feeling—’ she put her hand on her heart ‘—right here, that I’m right about him. I can’t explain it, but I just think that Abraham’s mother didn’t abandon him because she didn’t love him. I СКАЧАТЬ