‘Of course.’ He left his hand briefly on her arm, then turned and began to walk away.
Elspeth, a close friend of Michael and Phoebe, had answered Grace’s desperate call and stayed with Posie. Now she said nothing, just hugged her and made her a cup of tea and then shut herself in Michael’s study, taking on the task of calling everyone to let them know what had happened. She even rang Michael’s parents—his mother in Japan, his father in France.
Grace had never met either of them—Michael and Josh had only minimum contact with either parent since their divorce—but Elspeth had at least known them, could break the news without having first to explain who she was. Then she stayed to answer the phone, field the calls that came flooding in.
Calls from everyone but the one person she was waiting to hear from.
Friends arrived with food, stayed to give practical help, making up beds in the spare rooms in the main part of the house while Grace did the same in Josh’s basement flat. Even when her world was spinning out of control, she couldn’t bear to let anyone else do that.
Then she set about putting her own life on hold, leaving a message on the answering machine in the self-contained flat she occupied on the top floor, before taking her laptop downstairs.
Sitting in the armchair that had been a permanent fixture beside the Aga for as long as she could remember, Posie within reach in her crib, she scrolled through her schedule of classes, calling everyone who had booked a place, writing the cheques and envelopes to return their fees as she went. Anything to stop herself from thinking.
After that she was free to concentrate on Posie. Bathing her, feeding her, changing her, shutting out everything else but the sound of the telephone.
She’d insisted that she tell Josh herself.
‘It’s night in China,’ Elspeth said, after the umpteenth time the phone rang and it wasn’t him. ‘He’s probably asleep with the phone switched off.’
‘No. My call didn’t go straight to the message service. It rang…’
Asleep and didn’t hear it, then.’
‘Maybe I should have told someone in his office—’
‘No. They’ve given you all the numbers they have and if you can’t get hold of him, neither can they.’
‘But—’
‘You’re the only person he’ll want to hear this from, Grace.’
‘Maybe.’ Was she making too much of that? What did it matter who gave him the news?
‘No question. You’re the closest thing he has to family.’
‘He has parents.’
Elspeth didn’t bother to answer, just said, ‘Come and have something to eat. Jane brought a quiche…’
She shook her head. ‘I can’t face anything.’
‘You don’t have the luxury of missing meals,’ Elspeth said firmly. ‘You have to keep strong for Posie.’
‘What about you?’ Grace asked. Elspeth had lost her best friend. She was suffering, too. ‘You’ve been on the go all day and I haven’t seen you eat a thing.’
‘I’m fine.’
‘No, you’re not.’ She lay Posie in the crib. ‘Sit down. Put your feet up while I boil us both an egg.’
‘Do I get toast soldiers?’ Elspeth asked, managing a smile.
‘Of course. It’s my turn to look after you, Elspeth.’
‘Only if you promise to take one of those pills the doctor left for you. You haven’t slept…’
‘I can’t,’ she said. ‘Not until I’ve spoken to Josh.’
‘But then?’
‘I promise,’ she said. And, because it was the only way to get Elspeth to eat, she forced down an egg, too, even managed a yoghurt.
She had a bath and might have dropped off in the warm water, but Posie was fretful. It was almost as if she sensed that something was out of kilter in her world and Grace put on Phoebe’s dressing gown so that she would have the comfort of her mother’s scent as she held her against her shoulder, crooning softly to her, walking the long night away—waiting, waiting, waiting for the phone to ring.
Finally, when she knew it was day on the other side of the world, she called again. Again, it was the answering service that picked up. ‘Where are you?’ she cried out in desperation. ‘Call me!’ All she got back was a hollow emptiness. ‘Michael’s dead, Josh,’ she said hopelessly. ‘Phoebe’s dead. Posie needs you.’
She covered her mouth, holding back her own appeal. Refusing to say that she needed him, too.
She’d always needed him, but Josh did not need her and, even in extremis, a woman had her pride.
‘Did Grace McAllister manage to get hold of you, Josh?’
He’d flown direct to Sydney from Nepal, stopping at his office to pick up urgent messages before going home to catch up on sleep.
‘Grace?’ He frowned, looking up from the list of messages his PA handed him. ‘Grace rang me?’
‘Last week. Sunday. I gave her the Hong Kong numbers but I knew you’d be on the move so I gave her your cellphone number, too,’ she said. ‘She said it was urgent. I hope I did the right thing.’
‘Yes, yes,’ he said, reassuring her.
Last week? On Sunday he’d been in the mountains, thinking about his brother. Thinking about Grace. There had been a message alert on his phone, but he’d ignored it….
‘I dropped the damn thing off a mountain. Can you get me a replacement?’ Then, ‘Did Grace say why she was calling?’
‘Only that it was urgent. It’s the middle of the night there now,’ she reminded him as he picked up the phone, hit the fast dial for her number.
‘It doesn’t matter. She wouldn’t have called unless it was…’ He stopped as the call went immediately to the answering machine.
“This is Grace McAllister. I’m sorry that I can’t take your call at the moment. Due to a family bereavement, all classes have been cancelled until further notice. Please check the Web site for further details.”
Bereavement?
He felt the blood drain from his face, put out a hand to grasp the desk. Posie…
It had to be Posie. Small babies were so vulnerable. Meningitis, cot death… After so many years of waiting, so much heartache.
‘Cancel everything, Anna. Get me on the next available flight to London,’ he said, dialling his brother’s number.
Someone whose voice sounded familiar, but wasn’t Michael, wasn’t Phoebe, wasn’t Grace, answered the phone.
‘It’s Josh Kingsley,’ he said.
There was a momentary hiatus and then she was there—Grace, her familiar voice saying his name.
‘Josh…’
It was all it took to stir up feelings that he’d done his level best to suppress. But this last year he hadn’t been able to get her out of his head….
‘Josh, I’ve been trying to get hold of you….’
‘I know. I rang your number. Heard your message,’ he said, ignoring her question. ‘What’s happened? Who died?’
He heard her take a long shuddering breath.