Rose watched her mother pack a few more items. A nightdress, a brush and a pair of stockings briskly followed one another into her bag.
‘I always thought you hadn’t cared enough to look after me, not that you were too upset to try.’ Her mother had always been so strong, so forthright, so outspoken — or at least she thought she had been.
‘Don’t just stand there,’ her mother said holding out her bag with trembling hands. Rose took it and noticed that herstrembled too. ‘The lad’s waiting for you. You can’t look after him standing here.’ Her mother gave her an unsteady smile and Rose returned it with one of her own.
* * *
Rose hurried to Nicholas’s bedroom as soon as she arrived at Carrack House. She paused in the doorway to watch his sleeping figure and wondered how she could have left him at all. He turned his head to look at her and she rushed to his side. Rose knew, as she took his hand in hers, that not even an army could drag her away from him now.
Chapter Fifteen
Tuesday, 23rd December, 1919
Rose woke from her nap. It was dark outside signalling yet another day had passed. She stretched her stiff joints and walked to the window, drawing aside the curtain to expose the night sky. It was cloudless, dark as ebony and scattered with sparkling stars. In their midst was their crowning gem, a large white light cradled in a halo of gold. She had never been a devout Christian, yet at times like this, when the vastness of creation reached out to her in the way of a large, unknown star far away, she questioned if she should try harder. She did not attend service regularly, yet when in need of comfort, just like now, she found herself silently praying to someone up there for help. Did that make her a bad person, to only pray when it suited her?
The star shone brighter, winking at her and providing a strange comfort of its own. Unconditional and beyond earthly limits, it offered a sense of hope that all would be well. Was this how the Wise Men felt, when they first saw the star and followed it to Bethlehem? They were in search of something and had found it in the birth of a child — and tonight she envied them the joy they found there.
Rose carefully closed the curtains and returned to Nicholas’s side. She leaned towards him and threaded her fingers through his. Although the room was silent, somewhere in the depths of the house she could hear the muffled sound of a grandfather clock chiming out the hour. It was four in the morning; an hour people rarely saw unless they are troubled. The hour when the temperature drops, death is more likely to visit and time teeters between night and day.
She kissed his hand which felt warm against her lips. She had discarded her mask hours ago. She wanted him to know it was her.
Rose traced his fingers which were cradled in hers. It was as if his hand had been made for hers to hold and she could not bear the thought that he might still leave her. He had attempted to bring her the colours of Christmas and in doing so brought her joy and a glimpse of what life could be like. He must not be taken from her now.
‘You must fight this, Nicholas,’ she whispered. ‘I’m not sure how I could live without you if you don’t.’ Her voice was barely louder than a breath as she did not wish to wake him, but at times like this, when it felt that the Earth had stopped turning and they were truly alone, she could finally speak what was in her heart. He did not stir.
Rose rested her forehead on their clasped hands. He had walked into her life to bring her Christmas, yet by a twist of fate, he could be one of those unfortunate souls who never got to see it.
‘Bring me the colours of Christmas,
With kindness and love, wrapped in a soft golden glow.
I am here, waiting for you, my darling,
One day we will share them. Someday. Soon. Somehow.’
Rose felt a gentle squeeze on her hand. It was no stronger than a beat of a butterfly wing, but she felt it all the same. She hurriedly brushed away a tear. She had felt his hand move before. At such times she had clung to the hope he was improving to only find that a few hours later he was out of reach from her and back in a world of delirium, sweats and drowning fatigue. However, this time his response had been adefinite reply to her words and it ignited the same old spark of hope inside her that he might just pull through. He did not acknowledge her presence again for some time. An hour passed, then another. Finally dawn broke, casting a grainy light across his bed and waking Rose from a fitful nap. She opened her eyes to find Nicholas looking at her. He did not have the will to smile, but she could see that something had changed in his dark brown eyes. There was a steely resolve and for the first time he appeared truly focused, both in mind and in body.
‘Hello, Rose.’ His voice was almost a whisper, his words broken and hoarse, but they told her something that up until now she had only dared to hope for. This time he was determined to stay.
* * *
The house hummed with voices, but no one could reach him. He had never felt so weak or isolated. His mind tumbled with gnawing thoughts, none of which made any sense. They prevented him from sleeping, yet he did not have the strength or will to open his eyes. He just wanted to sink into the depths of his bedding into a place where it was dark and still. He wanted to be left alone, as even breathing felt exhausting. Fatigue swamped him. If death arrived to claim him, he would not put up a fight to resist it.
He felt a hand in his and heard her coaxing voice. It gave him an anchor, and her care made it impossible for him to give up and slink away. He realised he no longer wanted to be alone. He wanted to be with her. He tried, desperately, many times, but the fever had him in its clutches and would not let go. Then, one day, he was able to hold his gaze as he looked upon her face. It filled his body with the strength he needed to fight his way back to her.
* * *
Christmas Eve, 1919
Rose marshalled the two men carrying the fir tree into the drawing room. The Christmas tree had looked large in her tea shop, but now it was in its new surroundings, it appeared to have shrunk into a dumpy green bush. Rose could not hide her disappointment.
‘It has lost its grandness. I wanted it to brighten the room.’
Evelyn came to her side. ‘You are too hard on yourself. I think it looks rather sweet.’
Rose tilted her head as she scrutinised it. It still looked like a dumpy green bush.
‘Nicholas bought it for the shop. It looked so big there. I wanted to lift his spirits and bring Christmas to him, just like he did for me. I want tomorrow to be special. It will be his first day out of bed.’
