‘Is Hope with you?’ he asked, ignoring her question.
‘No. Did she say she was coming to see me?’
There was a silence down the line.
‘Edmund, are you still there?’
‘Yes.’
‘What’s wrong?’
‘I . . . I don’t know, to be honest.’
Thinking how odd he sounded, and aware that Hope had definitely seemed more on edge recently, Romily pressed for more information. ‘I can hear in your voice that you’re worried, Edmund. Please tell me if there’s anything I can do to help.’
It was a few seconds before he answered. ‘The thing is,’ he said, ‘we had an almighty row earlier and when I came back from being called out to a patient, Hope was gone. Heather, our maid, says she went for a walk. But that was hours ago.’
‘Perhaps she went to see your sister?’
‘I’ve just spoken with Evelyn and Hope hasn’t been there. I can’t think of anybody else she would go and see when, well, you know, when she’s not feeling herself.’
Again Romily could hear the concern in Edmund’s voice, as well as the storm that was building outside. ‘We should go and look for her,’ she said decisively. In a lighter tone, so as not to alarm Edmund any further, she added, ‘Probably all that’s happened is that Hope is sheltering somewhere until the worst of the weather has passed.’
Chapter Forty-Two
Melstead St Mary
November 1962
Stanley
The rain was icy cold, yet it pricked at his face like hot burning needles. The storm was making the tree branches creak and saw, and each time he tried to say anything to Romily, or called out Hope’s name, his voice was snatched from his mouth and lost on the wind.
With Tucker accompanying them, they had set off in Romily’s Lagonda to find Hope. They had only reached as far as the end of the drive when their way was suddenly, and terrifyingly, barred. A massive branch was ripped from the old oak tree in the gale and crashed to the ground just a few feet from the bonnet of the car.
With nothing else for it, they had taken the torch which Romily kept in the glove compartment and continued on foot. They were drenched in no time. Stanley hoped to God they hadn’t embarked on a wild goose chase. These were not the conditions to be out on a fool’s errand. He really wouldn’t be surprised if Hope was somewhere warm and dry, and deliberately paying Edmund back for something.
To be honest, Hope wasn’t Stanley’s favourite person right now. Ever since moving into Fairview, she had been in constant touch with him to complain about one thing or another. He had tried explaining that there were always teething problems with a new house and the contractors would happily resolve whatever needed putting right. But there had been no mollifying her. He had made the mistake of talking to Edmund in private, but Hope had found out and torn a strip off him.
During his years of training to be an architect, he had been warned that even the most easy-going of clients could turn on a sixpence. When he had accepted the commission from Hope and Edmund to build them a new house, he had accepted the inevitably of Hope keeping a close eye on every step of the design and build process. What he hadn’t anticipated was how irrational or bad-tempered she would become.
Annelise once said the pressure Hope put on herself was merciless. Anybody could see that she lived a tightrope existence and that those around her had to dance to her tune. Stanley wondered how Edmund put up with it. He must love her an awful lot was the only conclusion he could reach.
‘Over there, Stanley!’ Romily suddenly shouted, making him start. He looked to where she was directing the beam of light from the torch and then they hurried to where Tucker was peering into the ditch at the side of the road. His ears were pinned back and his tail low and between his legs. He was giving off alternate growls and whimpers. Pushing the dog aside, Stanley saw what Tucker had found.
With Romily’s help, they lifted Hope out of the ditch and on to the road. It wasn’t easy; her body was a deadweight, wet and slippery, mostly from the rain, but there was blood too. He fumbled to feel for a pulse at her neck. He couldn’t find one. Next he tried her wrists, first one, then the other. Still nothing.
He shook his head at Romily.
Romily stared back at him, her eyes wide with disbelief. ‘She can’t be,’ she said, wiping the rain from her face. ‘Let me try.’
He watched Romily do the same as he had just done. An eternity seemed to pass as he silently watched, numb with shock. Only minutes ago he had been thinking less than kindly about Hope, now she was dead. With Tucker at his side, shivering with the rain and cold, he knelt on the ground willing Romily to do the impossible, to bring Hope back to life.
‘I’ve found a pulse!’ she blurted out, her fingers pressed against Hope’s neck. ‘It’s faint, but it’s there. Just. Can you run and fetch help? I’ll stay here and try to get some warmth back into her. She’s frozen.’
Stanley shook his head. ‘Better still, why don’t I carry her back to Island House?’
Romily looked doubtful. ‘Do you think you can?’
He nodded. ‘If you think it’s safe to move her, that is?’
‘We’ve already moved her once, so let’s risk it again,’ said Romily.
Taking off his coat, Stanley wrapped it around Hope and had just lifted her when, in the light cast from the torch, he noticed something white drop to the ground and land in a puddle at his feet. It looked like a letter.
Romily noticed it too and bent to pick it up before stuffing it into the pocket of her raincoat.
Chapter Forty-Three
Chelstead Cottage Hospital, Chelstead
November 1962
Romily
‘How is she, Edmund?’ asked Romily. She and Stanley had been waiting anxiously for more than an hour at the small cottage hospital.
They had been making slow progress returning to Island House with Stanley carrying Hope when they’d been caught in the headlamps of a car coming towards them in the rain. Flagging it down for help, relief had flooded through Romily when she’d recognised it as Edmund’s Jaguar.
‘Not good,’ he murmured in answer to her question. ‘She has a serious head injury and is still unconscious. On top of that, she has three cracked ribs, a broken wrist and a whole range of cuts and bruises.’
‘Oh, Edmund,’ murmured Romily. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘The car that hit her,’ he went on, ‘and I can’t think of anything else that would have produced the level of injury she’s suffered, must have been going at a hell of a speed.’