Must Be Love (43 page)

‘Are you sure?’ I ask. Sally’s an assistance dog, vetted for her temperament. ‘She isn’t vicious.’

However, the sergeant assures me she’s unapproachable, so I leave Shannon and Frances to finish off.

‘You shouldn’t be going alone,’ Frances says. ‘Let me come with you.’

‘I’d rather you stayed with Shannon.’ I hesitate as the wind howls through the trees around the Manor. ‘I’ll be back within the hour.’ I grab a rope lead, syringes and needles, and drugs from the Talyton Manor Vets’ supplies, finding that one of the keys on the set Sophia gave Frances unlocks the drug cabinet.

‘Maz, you’re not being rational,’ Frances says. ‘It’s too dangerous out there. It isn’t right you putting a dog’s life before yours and your baby’s.’

I know where she’s coming from – she lost her husband on a night like this – but I’m perfectly rational and I have a duty to my patients. I
have
to go.

Having reached Talyford safely, by taking the back routes to avoid the ford, I’m directed to park at the top of the hamlet and escorted down to the Old Forge on foot. I’m so achy and uncomfortable, it’s all I can do to concentrate on the act of walking, let alone the police sergeant’s instructions, but somehow I find myself inside Penny’s house at one end of the hallway with Sally, an upset and angry dog, at the other.

‘Sally,’ I call her gently, and take a step forwards. She snarls. I guess to an inexperienced eye, she looks incredibly ferocious with her lip raised and teeth bared, but I know her better than that. Penny isn’t here. Sally’s alone and afraid. I throw down the rope lead. ‘Come on, Sal. Fetch it,’ I say. ‘Fetch it for me.’

Immediately, her attitude changes. She wags her tail and slinks towards the lead, grabbing it with her mouth, then brings it to me, dropping it at my feet.

‘What a good girl,’ I say, reaching out to the wall for support as I kneel down to pick it up and slip it over her head. It’s a relief, I think, that I didn’t have to sedate her. ‘Let’s go.’

The sergeant walks with me back to the car.

‘Where is Penny now?’ I ask, thinking I can deliver Sally straight back to her.

‘The school’s been requisitioned as a temporary shelter,’ the sergeant says. ‘I would take the dog there myself, but I haven’t got access to appropriate transport.’

‘Neither have I,’ I say, smiling now. The aching has subsided, at least for a while. I feel as if I can do anything. I persuade Sally into the footwell, where she stays until we’re out of the sergeant’s sight, then clambers onto the passenger seat. ‘You seem to have ideas above your station,’ I tell her lightly, and she stretches across and licks my face.

I continue through the lanes, which get narrower and more unfamiliar as I try to find my way back to Talyton. The beams from the headlamps highlight the relentless slanting rain and falling leaves against a background of black. Twigs and debris clatter against the bodywork, and the undercarriage of the car bumps over tussocks of grass. Reaching a welcome crossroads, I turn left, and left again, finding myself on the road that enters Talyton from the south.

‘I knew we weren’t lost,’ I tell Sally. ‘All we have to do is cross the Old Bridge and we’re home and …’ I was going to say ‘dry’, but everything is soaked. The car smells of wet dog and fabric conditioner, and there’s water leaking through the seals around the windows and trickling down the inside.

I can just make out the road sign at the end of the Old Bridge, and the shape of its parapet walls looming up towards me, but before I reach it, I hit water. I slam on the brakes, the car aquaplanes and spins so it’s facing the wrong way, and just as I think we’re coming to a stop, the water seems to surge and pick us up, carrying us backwards. The headlamps go out, and for one of the scariest moments of my life, we’re drifting in the dark. Powerless. Out of control.

Sally whimpers and shivers of panic run down my spine. My belly tightens once more and a wave of indescribable pain takes my breath away.

This is it, Maz.
This
is it. The end.

There’s a gentle bump, then a jolt, and the car comes to a stop, beached on a bank or a hedge, perhaps. The pain loosens its hold and my survival instinct kicks in. I shove the door open and examine the situation with the light on my mobile phone. We’re resting on a mix of brambles, nettles and long grass at the base of a scrubby hedge. At a guess, I’d say it’s the one that runs between the river and the old railway line, and if the river’s burst its banks and flooded the valley, the old railway line seems like the best place to aim for as it’s a few feet above the level of the river.

At first, though, I wonder if we’d be safer staying with the vehicle. Being red, it should be fairly easy to spot by torchlight or in daylight if we have to sit it out that long, but the car shifts slightly, grating and groaning, and I’m afraid it’s going to be carried further downriver, and sink or break up.

‘Come on, Sally,’ I say, making my mind up. I grab her lead and haul her out my side. I tug her along with me along the line of the hedge, looking for a way through, but she wants to go the other way, towards the flood, towards the river, making our progress slow.

‘Help!’ I call, although I’m being optimistic imagining anyone can hear me, screaming through the storm. ‘Help!’ Finding a gap in the hedge, I push Sally ahead and plunge through the rushing, water-filled ditch behind her, shoving her up the bank on the other side, and scrambling out myself, slipping and sliding in the mud until I reach the relative safety of the cinder track that marks the old railway line. We’re both soaked through, Sally’s coat plastered against her body, my hair dripping into my eyes.

Sally shakes herself and sits beside me, while I crouch down, pressing my fists against my slab-hard belly as another wave of pain begins. Hot liquid gushes out between my legs. My waters have burst. I’m crying. Alex … Alex … How is Alex going to find me when he doesn’t know where I am?

Teeth chattering and tears stinging my cheeks, I hunt through my pockets for my phone. It’s dead, and I’m stuck in the middle of nowhere in the near darkness with water on all sides, the trees along the railway line straining and creaking as the gale forces them to bow in its path, and Sally gazing at me with her big brown eyes as if she’s expecting me to know what to do next. It crosses my mind that although I can think of more useful companions to have at my side at this moment, I’m glad I have Sally at least. I’m pretty sure I’d lose it completely if I were alone.

The pain grows more intense. Breathe. Remember to breathe. Rock on your hands and knees. Oh-mi-God.

‘Please, Bean. Please be all right.’

Where did that come from? The pain dulls, not completely, but on a scale of one to ten, it’s dropped from a twelve to an eight. Continuing to rock back and forth, I stroke my bump. I know what I said, but I don’t want to lose my baby, our baby. I want him or her to live, to be happy and healthy …

Knowing there’s little chance of that if we stay here, I straighten up, Sally nudging my hand with her nose, and I manage to stand and stagger northwards. Dashing my hair from my eyes, I stare towards the flashing lights and sirens that have appeared on the Old Bridge. My spirits lift a little at the thought that safety isn’t far away. Five minutes’ walk max.

Energised by the hope that our ordeal is almost over, Sally and I walk on along the cinder track until it disappears under water. Then, summoning all my courage, we slosh and paddle a hundred metres or so through the stretch of water that lies between us and the Old Bridge, before the water reaches up to Sally’s neck and over my knees. Sally hesitates while I keep walking, taking one tentative step at a time and dragging her along with me, but when the currents beneath the surface threaten to sweep me off my feet, I have to stop. I can’t swim.

My whole body hurts – from the cold and the effort of fighting the strength of the flood, of hanging on to Sally, of keeping moving … I want to cry. If I wasn’t so desperately afraid, I would, but I have to concentrate. I have to get us out of here. The water’s following us, rising inexorably as the rain continues to fall and the river swallows up every recognisable feature in the valley. The ditch and parts of the hedge on either side have disappeared, replaced by a black, swirling landscape, like something out of one of Penny’s paintings.

The bridge is too far away and there’s no hope in hell as far as I can see of anyone spotting us. There’s no way out.

All I can do is yell and shout for my baby’s life.

There’s movement on the bridge ahead. More vehicles. More people.

I start screaming, my voice growing hoarse, until I can no longer hear myself, overwhelmed by the roar of the storm, the sound of falling trees, the rush of the river and the beating rain. I take a moment to recover my breath, clinging on to Sally’s collar.

The water’s still rising. Inch by inch. I reckon at this rate we have another fifteen minutes or so left before the water swallows us up and carries us away. I’m under no illusion now. Me, the baby – I stifle a sob of grief – and the dog are going to drown, and of all the ways I have in my worst nightmares imagined my life would end, drowning was the one I feared the most …

I wait, paralysed by fear. I think of throwing myself onwards into the icy depths, of getting it over with, but either I’m too much of a coward or the desire to continue living is too powerful to resist, and I turn away from the bridge and wade back with Sally to the ever-diminishing island of cinder track where we wait for the inevitable.

I become aware of a lull in the storm. The wind drops slightly and I begin to be able to make out the sound of voices from the direction of the bridge. I imagine I can hear Alex’s voice, wishful thinking or my brain playing tricks, because I’d give anything to hear him again, to see him, to have him hold me in his arms. I shudder with cold and exhaustion. Just one last time.

He’s shouting now. Yelling. I can hear the panic in his voice.

‘Are you out there, Maz? Where the bloody hell are you? Maz!’

The water between me and the bridge lights up with a beam of light from a pair of headlamps. Dazzled, I screw my eyes shut and wave. Sally starts barking. I can hear the growl of a diesel engine over the sound of the wind as the vehicle approaches, then comes to a stop again.

Have they seen us? Please, let them have seen us …

I hear snatches of shouted conversation. Alex’s voice again. Another man? Something about a dog barking. Have they heard Sally?

I turn to her in desperation.

‘Speak, Sally!’ I urge her, and she responds with a delighted bark, as if she thinks it’s a game. ‘Speak, there’s a good girl.’ She barks and barks as if her life depends on it, which it does, I think, as I strain my ears, listening for the voices.

‘Can’t you hear it? The dog.’

‘Alex!’ I yell. ‘Alex, we’re over here!’

‘Maz? Oh, thank God, it is you. Maz …’

I pick out the silhouette of a tractor and a figure beside it, but I can’t hear him now. His voice is whipped away by a gust of wind.

‘Stop right there!’ I yell, as the figure that I’m sure now is Alex starts disappearing into the water. ‘It’s too dangerous. The current!’

He hesitates, then returns to the tractor. I think he’s talking to someone, but I can’t see properly. He’s back on the edge of the water again, tying one end of a rope to the front of the tractor, the other round his waist. He steps into the flood, holding a torch in his mouth, and swims towards us. My heart lurches when I lose sight of him halfway across, and my relief that he’s found me turns to deep anxiety.

Don’t leave me, Alex … You promised me …

I search the water’s surface for what seems like an eternity until he bobs up again a few feet away from me and Sally, his hair slicked down against his head. He wades out of the water, his jeans and polo shirt clinging to his muscular body.

‘Oh, Maz,’ he says, his voice cracking with emotion as he embraces me, ‘I thought I’d lost you …’

‘I’m sorry,’ I say, sobbing. I should have been more careful. I should have brought Sally up to the Manor instead of trying to reunite her with Penny at the school. ‘How did you know where to find us?’

‘Frances rang while I was dealing with Stewart’s cattle to tell me you’d gone out. She didn’t approve. She told me you’d gone up to Talyford; then someone reported they’d seen a car being swept downriver by the Old Bridge. Stewart brought me down in the tractor. The rest was guesswork and a lot of luck.’ Alex grimaces. ‘You’re safe now, though, darling. Let’s get you home.’

As he speaks, another wave of pain begins to build low in my pelvis. I gasp.

‘I c-c-can’t move.’

‘You have to,’ he says, sounding confused at my sudden desire to remain in this dangerous place for even a moment longer. ‘I’m s-s-sorry, Alex. The baby’s c-c-coming …’

‘How often?’ he asks roughly. ‘The contractions?’

‘About every … five minutes,’ I gasp. ‘I can’t move.’

Alex swears. ‘Maz, take a deep breath and listen to me. Just do as I say.’

‘The water?’

‘Forget the water. Concentrate on breathing. Let me worry about everything else.’

‘I’ve been such an idiot,’ I say through gritted teeth. I shove my fists into my belly in a vain attempt to stop the next contraction.

‘Hush, hush there.’

‘Stop talking to me like I’m one of your patients.’ I’m angry now – at Alex, at myself, at the storm. I’m in labour, in the middle of nowhere. Where’s the soft music, the aromatherapy oil and the midwife? What’s more, where’s the bloody epidural? The baby’s grinding its skull against my pelvic bones, forcing them apart. I start to scream. I can hear it this time, an uncontrolled, piercing scream.

‘Wait there,’ Alex says, and he heads off back towards the tractor.

‘No! Don’t you dare leave me here!’ I stamp my feet, but Alex doesn’t listen, and I’m beside myself now. How dare he leave his girlfriend in the middle of nowhere while she’s giving birth to his child. I never asked to have this baby. I don’t want it. Especially now when it feels as if it’s killing me …

However, Alex is soon back, carrying various old coats and blankets, and accompanied by Stewart, who ties Sally’s lead to the rope round his waist and swims her across to safety.