The room falls silent. Nothing moves in the corridor beyond the half-open door, and all Emma can hear is the faint buzz of the blue light.
Then she hears another sound, a rasping sound, and she realises it is coming from deep within her. Words are becoming an effort, but there is something she wants to tell this girl.
‘You know I’ve been looking for you?’
The girl looks down at her. ‘Maybe I’ve been looking for you. Have you thought of that?’
‘Then youdoknow me?’ As Emma whispers this, it sounds all wrong. Surely she wants to know how she knows this girl, not the other way around? There does not seem to be enough time to untangle the words, so instead she asks, ‘Will you sit with me for a bit?’
‘As long as you like.’
‘I don’t want to be on my own.’
‘You haven’t been on your own for some time now, but I think you know that already.’
She does.
‘Is dying difficult?’ Emma asks.
‘Oh, not at all. It’s living that takes some getting used to.’
Chapter 71
Violet
Baby’s Breath
She unwraps the makeshift blanket parcel and stares in amazement at the baby in her arms. The surprise soon turns to concern.
She wraps the eiderdown she has borrowed to keep her warm around its tiny form. She wonders where the baby’s parents are. She looks around the boat as if expecting to find the baby’s mother or father there, and is surprised to see they have already launched and are rowing away from the ship.
All night as they drift, helpless in the cold, the tiny baby in her arms is her anchor. When theTitanicgives out a rending moan, splits and sinks, she soothes the baby as she cries.
She carries the baby close to her heart, tucking her hands around her tiny fingers. She sings an old song her mother taught her, the words muddled, her voice a whisper– but it helps to dampen the sounds that wash with the waves towards their boat.
As the night progresses and an awful silence settles, she and the sea rock the baby, and sometimes the baby sleeps. Then she holds her face close to hers, breathing in the scent of the baby’s head. She remembers holding her baby sister like this, and the thought brings her closer to her.
She reaches into the pocket of her skirt and runs her fingers over the stiches of the sampler she has tucked there. A precious gift– just like the baby in her arms.
Chapter 72
Emma
Funeral Flowers
She feels the movement of the bed and watches the ceiling tiles flitting overhead. They seem to have positioned her like a doll, tucked with both arms outside of the sheets– or maybe this is how they lay you out for a funeral?
But as they wheel her through the corridor, it is definitely Betty beside her. She doesn’t think Betty would be with her if she was already dead, although she is quite prepared to believe that Betty might be an angel.
The figure accompanying her doesn’t look like Betty– she looks tired and is wearing a plain blue shirt– but Emma can tell it is her, because she hasn’t stopped talking.
‘… So you’ll be in surgery for a few hours– they’ve given you something to relax you now, but I’ll be with you until they take you in and they say I can be with you when you wake up.’
Emma tries to say something, but her mouth is so dry it seems cemented shut.
‘They thought at first it was your heart, and I was that worried, love, I felt sick. And anyway, I got hold of your mum in the South of France, and by the time she got here– it took her a day or two, but come she did– they had run more tests, and, love, you are so anaemic they said it was a miracle that you were still standing. That didn’t seem to worry them too much and they gave you a blood transfusion– really, they have been very good. They ran all sorts of tests, and at first they thought you were fine, that you would just need some iron pills and so forth, once you’d come round from the bump on the head, but when they scanned your head they found there was a fragment of bone loose from where your eye socket cracked and they were a bit worried about it causing a blockage if it travelled intoyour brain, so they’re going to sort it out. They’ve had to shave some of your hair away, but it will grow back as good as new, and short hair is very fashionable these days. And some have a bit of short and a bit of long, and everyone seems to likethat. So now the infection is under control … did I tell you that? They think you may have got it when your head hit the floor. They’ve done an amazing job at getting rid of that– you were completely away with the fairies, love. Oh my goodness, yes. But as I was telling you, they think they can operate now and sort you out. They’resurethey can operate.’
Betty stops suddenly. Emma can hear the bed wheels clicking as they turn. Then Betty says in a quiet voice, ‘It will be okay, love. I know it will.’
