A Fall from Grace - Maggie Ford (have you read this book TXT) 📗

broke apart, ‘the whole thing is almost killing me. His time at his office is getting shorter and shorter. He comes home in such a state that at times he can hardly breathe. If he’s ill again this winter, I don’t know what I shall do. I won’t be able to leave him to come here. It could be weeks before I see you again. If that were to happen I think I would just die.’

Her words made him hug her to him again as he whispered that she must try to be strong, that he needed her, that nothing must happen to part them. His words gave her strength, making her body tingle again, and moments later she sank with him on to the sofa as he took her once more, fully clothed, handbag still gripped in her hand as it dangled over the side of the sofa.

Travelling homeward by taxi she alternately prayed that James would not fall ill this winter, but if he were to succumb to another serious bout of pneumonia, maybe it would be a kindness if it took him; desperately trying to convince herself that it was not her wish but in the lap of the gods, and yet again hoping it wouldn’t happen.

But as December dawned and the weather turned foul, he was again ill, the pneumonia of last year having taken its toll with yet another bout of bronchitis, this time really laying him low. And now as she had suspected, she was tied to the house, finding herself forced to be by his side despite Dr Peters’ regular visits and a permanent nurse tending him day and night.

Whether it was worry over James or the fretting at the difficulty in visiting Anthony, she too found herself suffering bouts of poor health. She felt tired, listless; prone to weep for no apparent reason. Also she’d not seen a period in a while. It was all this worry.

There had been no social event over the holiday season because of James’s condition. Who’d want to enter a house with infection hovering around? Even though Dr Peters had said bronchitis wasn’t infectious, people were loath to kick up their heels in a place of sickness. It was now February, James recovering slowly. But she felt dreadful in herself, at odd times feeling slightly sick, especially on waking up. Visiting their doctor for a pick-me-up, he’d insisted on examining her after she’d spoken of a lack of energy.

‘Yes, worry might be the cause,’ he said, ‘I shall give you a tonic but it’s best to make sure from the start that it is nothing deeper.’ He regarded her closely as he questioned her. Finally, he smiled.

‘My dear lady, do you not realize your condition?’

‘What condition?’ she asked. It was then a spark of memory hit her – all those years ago, those same feelings.

Seconds later her doctor was confirming her realization. ‘Well, my dear,’ he was saying, using James’s own expression. ‘I am happy to tell you that you are pregnant, and may I be the first to convey to you my sincere congratulations. Your husband will be so very happy – a man of his age, discovering himself a father – wonderful news for you both.’ Hearing him, all she could do was force as bright a smile as she could muster while in her head it seemed her own voice was screaming at her: you can’t have it – you can’t – you’re going to have to do something about it – somehow!

‘Please,’ she heard herself saying. ‘I want to tell him myself, if that’s all right. I’d be grateful if you say nothing to him not even to congratulate him until I have told him myself.’ It sounded almost like a plea, a guilty plea, but he smiled understandingly.

‘I shall not say a word until you have. A mother-to-be should never be robbed of her moment of joy.’

She couldn’t recall how she had got out of the doctor’s surgery, how she had got herself home, her world seeming to have collapsed around her.

Twenty-One

It was a week of abject despair, not knowing which way to turn. Even James, wrapped up in his own ill health as he was, noticed something wrong.

‘You’re not going down with a chill, are you, my dear. You must take more care of yourself.’

‘I’m fine,’ she parried, trying to put on a bright smile – a smile that did not feel as if it were working.

‘Because I’d hate to see you fall prey to anything you might have caught from me.’

‘I’m quite well, James. I’m merely worried for you, nothing more.’

‘Then it may be that you are taxing yourself much too much over me. I’m so sorry, my dear, I try to bear up for your sake. But you must stop worrying on my behalf, sitting up with me for hours on end, that sort of thing. We’ve a paid nurse to do that. You must try to take things easy.’

‘It’s just that I can’t help worrying about you,’ she lied.

‘Maybe you need a little holiday,’ he said, brightening. ‘Get away from the worry of me. I shall be all right. There is our staff and I’m in the good hands of our doctor and the nurse. I could arrange for you to spend a week or two by the sea, before the weather turns too foul – a nice hotel…’

‘I’ll be fine,’ she cut in but already her thoughts were pulsing – an entire two weeks by the sea, alone with Anthony. His bank would survive without him for two weeks. Life suddenly seemed wonderful again – until she remembered her condition. How was she going to face Anthony with it? What would his reaction be? And James, the ugly business of having to tell him, the pain it would cause him – he didn’t deserve that. Even if she withheld the news from him, all too soon he would notice the change in her shape.

The future loomed