‘Right, I need to see Aunt Imogen. Is she upstairs?’
When Aggie nodded he took the stairs two at a time. Minutes later he came pounding down again and snatched his hat from the hatstand. ‘I’m going to inform the police of her disappearance,’ he told Aggie. ‘Although I doubt they’ll do anything about it at this early stage. She hasn’t been gone for long enough. Still, it won’t stop me having a scout around for her. Perhaps she’s gone to the poor surgery.’ Deep down he knew this was highly unlikely but he was prepared to try anything.
It was late that evening before he returned, footsore and downhearted. ‘No one has seen her,’ he told Imogen who had insisted on coming downstairs to wait for him. ‘I think you’d best write to her parents and tell them how worried we are in case she’s turned up there.’
‘I’ll do it immediately,’ Imogen answered as she lifted her stick and hobbled over to her dainty escritoire in a waft of expensive French perfume. ‘Then Aggie can run and put it in the post box and it will go first thing in the morning.’
Jake nodded. Now there was nothing else they could do but wait, although every minute that Emmy was missing seemed like an hour and he wondered how he would bear it.
Chapter Forty-Five
‘It’s no good, Mrs M, she just won’t feed,’ Abi said with frustration as she fastened her nightdress yet again.
‘Try not to worry, she will when she’s hungry,’ the kindly woman told her, although she herself was now gravely concerned about the child. They’d tried everything to get her to drink her milk but whatever they did she just let it dribble out of the side of her mouth and with every day that passed, her mother grew a little stronger and Grace grew a little weaker.
The doctor had called in a couple of days ago and had set her leg as gently as he could, which had made the poor little soul whimper with distress, but there was nothing he could do to make her take her milk and her heart was still beating erratically – not a good sign at all, although he hadn’t dared to tell the young mother that.
‘I think you should run and ask the doctor to call again, Bertie,’ Mrs M told him when she carried the baby into the kitchen minutes later. ‘She seems to be wasting away despite our best efforts and I feel so useless.’
Bertie was off like a hare. There was nothing he wouldn’t have done for Grace. He already loved the child as much as if she had been his own and he loved her mother even more, if that were possible. He just prayed she would agree to be his wife.
Thankfully the doctor attended within the hour and after weighing the child on Mrs M’s kitchen scales, he shook his head. ‘It’s usual for newborn babies to lose a little weight immediately after the birth,’ he told her with a grim expression. ‘But I’m afraid this little one isn’t thriving at all. I think you should all prepare yourselves for the worst.’
Mrs M wrung her hands as her eyes filled with tears. ‘But surely there’ssomethingyou can do for her, doctor? She’s only a few days old, God love her!’
He sighed. ‘If only there were, Mrs Merryweather, but to be honest, I didn’t expect her to survive this long. Her heartbeat is sadly erratic, that accounts for the tinge of blue you can see about her lips, and unfortunately there is nothing anyone can do about that in a child so young.’
Bertie tenderly took Grace from his mother’s arms and began to gently rock her to and fro as his heart broke. He’d had such plans for her but now it seemed they might never happen. He’d pictured them building sandcastles on the beach when he got home from work each evening and giving her donkey rides. He’d imagined them paddling in the sea with the sun warm on their backs – that was if Abi agreed to marry him. But now it looked as if his dreams weren’t going to come true and worse still, how would Abi take it if anything happened to Grace? She had gone from not wanting the baby to adoring her within minutes of seeing her and he knew that she would be broken-hearted.
‘What should we tell Abi?’ he asked in a shaky voice.
The doctor sighed. ‘Perhaps we should wait a while and just see how things go?’ he suggested. ‘While she’s on the mend there’s no point in upsetting her until we have to. And after all, I could be wrong; it wouldn’t be the first time.’
‘Let’s just pray that you are.’ Mrs M saw him to the door before once again warming some milk for the little one. If she didn’t survive, she was determined it wouldn’t be through lack of her doing her very best for her.
That night when all was quiet Mrs M tucked the baby into the crib at the side of her mother’s bed and bent to kiss Abi’s cheek. ‘Now you just call if she wakes and you need any help during the night,’ she told her, although Abi hadn’t had to do that as yet. The baby seemed to spend most of her time sleeping.
‘I will,’ Abi promised as she lay on her side gently stroking the baby’s cheek. She looked like a little angel lying there with her eyelashes curled on her baby cheeks and Abi’s heart overflowed with love for her.
‘I love you so very much, little Miss Grace,’ she whispered and she watched her for a long time until eventually she fell into a deep contented sleep.
The next morning after seeing to Bertie’s breakfast, Mrs M made Abi a cup of tea and carried it upstairs to her. Once in Abi’s room she placed it on the small table at the side of the bed and crossed to flick the curtains open, letting the early morning sunshine spill into the room.
‘Morning, lass,’ she said cheerfully as she approached the bed where Abi was stretching and yawning. ‘This little one gave you another undisturbed night, did—?’ She stopped talking abruptly as she glanced into the crib and the smile slid from her face.
‘What’s wrong?’ Abi levered herself up on to her pillows and as her eyes followed those of Mrs M she saw that Grace was lying unnaturally still.
Bending, Mrs M lifted the child and as her tiny arms dangled to either side of her small body her worst fear was confirmed. The child was cold to the touch and her skin, normally like peaches and cream, had taken on a grey tone.
‘Oh, my poor little lass!’ Mrs M began to cry as Abi looked on in horror. ‘I’m so sorry but I’m afraid she’s gone.’
Without thinking, Abi swung her legs out of the bed, wobbling dangerously as the floor rose up to greet her. Then she rushed over and snatched the baby from Mrs M’s arms.
‘Grace, it’s Mummy. Wake up, sweetheart .?.?. Oh,pleasewake up!’ But even as she said it, she knew that Mrs M was right. Her sweet little baby was quite dead.
Mrs M meantime had run to the door and bellowed downstairs to Bertie, ‘Run for the doctor, son. Tell him to comeimmediately!’
Bertie appeared at the bottom of the stairs, his face ashen. ‘Is something wrong with Abi?’
