As Jules stepped into the afternoon sun to greet her parents, she could smell the sweet freshness of spring rolling down from the valley. The air still held a chill, but the promise of warmth carried in the light breeze.
‘Juliet,’ her mother screeched, jumping from their faded blue Volvo estate. ‘You look so beautiful. Doesn’t she look beautiful Bernie? And this house, it’s amazing.’
‘Thanks mum,’ Jules replied, steadying herself as her mother pulled her into the folds of her bright orange pashmina and held her tight.
‘You’re father and I are so proud of you.’
‘Thanks,’ Jules murmured through the thick mist of her mother’s treacle sweet perfume. The smell flooding her with warm memories of her childhood. The reassurance blanketing the jumble of nerves and disappointment dancing in her stomach.
‘Did you find it okay?’ Jules asked as she untangled herself from Nora’s embrace.
‘Just about,’ her father smiled, pecking her on the cheek. ‘I wrote out the directions last night, but you know your mum, she always knows best.’
‘Shut up Bernie,’ Nora laughed. ‘We found it didn’t we?’
‘Yes dear,’ he replied, winking at Jules. ‘We are so glad to be here,’ her father added, squeezing her shoulder.
‘Come on in. I want you to meet my friend Terri, and her two sons – Dan and Jason. They’ve been helping me with the house,’ Jules said, leading her parents into the kitchen.
‘This is amazing,’ her mother repeated as they stepped into the kitchen. ‘Oh my, what strapping young men,’ she added, catching sight of Dan and Jason hovering by an open packet of cheese puffs.
‘Dan, Jason, Terri, these are my parents’ – Nora and Bernie. Anyone for tea?’ she added as they greeted each other.
‘Oh I think we can do better than that,’ her mother replied, retrieving a bottle of champagne from the fabric shopping bag she carried with her everywhere.
‘Perfect,’ Terri agreed. ‘Why don’t I pour whilst you show your mum and dad around? Dan, Jason, you’d better go to before you eat all the food.’
‘Thanks Terri, here-’
‘Shhh. Did you hear that?’ Bernie asked suddenly.
‘Don’t you start Dad,’ Jules smiled. ‘Terri’s already convinced this place is haunted.’
‘No I’m serious, I definitely heard something upstairs.’
‘It’s just the old plumbing. I’ve got someone coming out next week to look at it. Come on I’ll show you around.’
Before her father could disagree, Jules beckoned them out of the kitchen, leading her parents from room to room, pointing out the work they’d done and talking through the list of tasks still ahead of her.
Such a lovely staircase,’ her mother cooed.
‘Thanks mum. Terri picked it out. The old one fell down.’
‘NO,’ Nora replied in disbelief, running her hand over the twisted spindles.
‘There...I heard it again,’ Bernie cut in.
‘What?’ Jules, Dan and Jason asked in unison.
‘Shhh.’
No one dared breathe as they listed to the distinctive sound of shuffling from above them.
‘It’s the plumbing,’ Jules repeated with a little less conviction.
‘It’s a sort of flapping noise,’ Bernie disagreed. ‘Since when did pipes flap?
‘And a spooky woman’s cry,’ Jason added with a grin, nudging his brother.
Bernie turned to his daughter. ‘Juliet, have you looked inside your loft yet?’
‘Honestly dad, this place is not haunted.’
‘I’ll get the ladder,’ Dan smirked, already moving towards one of the bedrooms where they’d hidden all of the tools.
Two minutes later, they all stood holding the bottom of the ladder whilst Dan balanced on top, sliding the loft hatch out of the way before his head disappeared into the darkness.
‘Holy shit,’ a voice called down from above.
‘What is it?’ Jules demanded.
‘You’d better take a look for yourself,’ Dan called as he hoisted himself off the ladder, his body disappearing into the loft.
‘Oh my god, it’s a ghost isn’t it?’ Terri cried in a shrill voice.
Jules hopped up the ladder and poked her head into the darkness. She had no idea what she expected to see, but nothing prepared her for the hollow black eyes that greeted her.
Perched less than a metre away on a long roof beam sat two huge barn owls. Their cream feathers shimmering in the sunlight streaming in from a hole to the side of her house.
‘Wow.’
‘They are beautiful,’ Dan whispered.
‘What is it?’ Terri called out from below.
‘Shhh,’ Dan and Jules said together.
At that moment, one of the owls lifted its wings slightly to reveal two small baby owls, one cream and one brown, hiding beneath them.
‘Holy shit, they are amazing,’ Dan said, creeping slowly back to the loft hatch.
‘Come on, let’s leave them to it,’ Jules said, stepping back down.
‘Well?’ Nora asked.
‘Owls,’ Jules said.
‘A whole family of them,’ Dan added, placing the hatch back in place. ‘Two adults and two babies.’
‘But what about the ghosts?’ Terri asked in a timid voice.
‘I think they are the ghosts,’ Jules replied, placing her arm around Terri.
‘Oh.’ Her friend frowned, her cheeks turning crimson.
‘What are you going to do about them?’ Jason asked.
‘Nothing for now. They’re not going to do any more damage than they already have done. I’ll wait a few weeks until the babies are older and then I suppose I’ll call the local vets.’
‘Right then,’ Bernie began. ‘Now that we’ve sorted that one out, how about that champagne?’
‘That’s why I married you Bernard,’ Nora patted his arm. ‘Always the first to suggest a drink.’
Only after Jules had taken a sip of champagne and the bubbles had mingled with the fizzing nerves building in her stomach, did her mother pull out a copy of The Daily.
‘I assume you’ve seen this?’ she asked.
Jules nodded, the disappointment returning.
‘And?’ her mother asked in an excited voice.
‘Nothing,’ Jules shrugged.
‘Nothing yet,’ Terri added.
‘Don’t worry love,’ Nora began, reading the sadness in her daughter’s face. ‘The best love stories have to go through turmoil before the happy ending.
Just think of Romeo and Juliet. Where do you think your father and I picked your name from?’
‘But they died at the end Mum.’
‘No love, they were together for eternity.’
‘Oh. I’m not sure that was the ending I was hoping for,’ Jules replied with a sad smile.
Thirty-seven
Guy eased his foot onto the brake pedal, coaxing the car to a stop as the light turned from amber to red. He glanced back at the solemn face of his nephew, staring out of the window from his car seat.
He had no idea how Sam had survived the week. Or Debbie or Carl for that matter; he’d barely made it himself.
Saturday. Four days since he’d listened to Carl’s message and slipped out of Jules’ room. Four days since he’d seen or heard from her. Four days since he’d sacked Sonja.
It felt like a lifetime.
Ever since he’d seen the midwives rushing into Debbie’s room and felt a crippling fear pierce through his chest, he’d focused on nothing else but Debbie and the baby.
He had the rest of his life to dwell on the bitter mistakes he’d made.
Despite their optimism, Debbie’s body had started labour for the second time; the contractions hurtling through her only minutes apart. How they did it, he didn’t know, but the quick work of the hospital team stopped them once more.
In the days that followed, he’d sat helpless by Debbie’s bedside as she’d received a cocktail of st
eroids in the desperate hope of maturing the baby fighting for life inside her.
Thirty weeks pregnant. It sounded like a lot to Guy, but as the midwife explained to him, a baby born so early would miss out on ten weeks of development in the womb; when the baby would gain over half its body weight and allow the organs to mature ready for life outside the womb.
He’d lost count of the times he’d scrunched his eyelids shut and preyed as Debbie and Carl stared helplessly at the clock, continuing to tick loudly into the room.
In his twenty-seven years he couldn’t remember ever wondering if he believed. He’d just accepted that something might be out there and got on with it. But when he looked at the terrified expression on his sister’s face, Guy found himself promising everything if Debbie and baby would be okay.
Then on Thursday afternoon, just after the lunch trays had been cleared away, Debbie’s waters broke. This time there was nothing the team of doctors and midwives could do but assist the delivery.
Guy had been ushered out of the room so quickly he hadn’t even had a chance to tell Debbie how much he loved her. For two excruciating hours he waited. Pacing up and down the waiting room and blanking out the excited faces of the other visitors waiting to meet new arrivals. He could only imagine how much worse those few hours had been for Debbie.
It seemed impossible to him, the task Debbie and the other women in the delivery ward had to do, but she did it. Carl’s face had poked into the visitors’ room to tell him; a mixture of excitement and anxiety etched in lines around his eyes.
But before the new parents could so much as say hello to the three pound seven ounce little girl, she’d been whisked away to the Special Care Baby Unit and attached to a dozen machines as the paediatricians’ made their assessments.
Debbie and Carl named her Faith, and then the waiting continued.
The paediatrician called it Respiratory Distress Syndrome. Despite the steroids Debbie had received, Faith’s lungs were too immature to breathe without the help of a respirator. Her only chance was to gain weight fast; the doctor had explained to them, giving Faith a calorie and vitamin enriched formula through a tube in her nose.
A car horn jolted Guy from his thoughts. He focused his eyes back on the road just in time to see the traffic light turn from green back to amber. He’d been doing that a lot lately – losing track of time as he gazed at nothing.
Not long now, he thought. Two more sets of traffic lights, a mini-roundabout and then they’d be there.
He’d done the journey so many times in the past week that in the rare moments when exhaustion gave way to sleep he found himself dreaming it.
But never with Sam, he reminded himself with a nauseating wave of dread.
Every afternoon, after taking croissants and fresh fruit to Debbie and Carl, he would kiss his sister goodbye and collect Sam from Carl’s parents. It took all the energy he had left inside him to glue a smile on his face and pretend that everything was okay.
But today there was not trip to the park to chase the ducks. Today, as he’d strapped Sam into the car seat, he’d received a text from Carl:
Come to hospital. Bring Sammy.
He had no idea what to expect as he pulled into the parking bay, but nothing could stop the fear rising to his throat. Was this the goodbye they’d all silently feared?
‘Okay Sammy,’ Guy called, forcing his voice to sound cheery as he unclipped Sam’s seatbelt and lifted him into his arms. ‘Let’s go see Mummy and Daddy.’
Sam’s large blue eyes fixed on Guy’s with a mixture of hope and fear. Maybe his 18-month old nephew understood what might await them on the other side of the revolving doors, Guy wondered, gluing a smile onto his face.
As the midwife buzzed Guy and Sam into the Special Care Unit another wave of panic drenched through him. Just a few metres away on the red plastic visitors’ chairs sat Carl. His hands covering his face as he rocked back and forth.
‘Daddeee,’ Sam cried out, stretching his stubby arms out towards his father.
Guy felt the sting of water prick his eyes as Carl lifted his tear streaked face up to greet them.
‘Sammy,’ Carl said, standing up to take his son and wrapping him into a tight embrace.
Guy swayed back, his body leaning against the wall as the fear in his stomach mingled with the emotions of the week until he didn’t think he had the energy to stand a moment longer.
But as he took a step towards the row of chairs, his eyes caught sight of his sister’s red and white spotty dressing gown. On the other side of the Perspex glass looking into a room of tiny cots, with wires and machines all around them, sat his sister.
A sob leapt through him as his gaze fixed on the tiny bundle of blankets in her arms and the look of joy on her face.
‘Come in,’ Debbie mouthed, beckoning to them with her free hand.
‘Mummee,’ Sam yelled as Carl carried him into the warm room.
‘Oh Sammy. Mummy has missed you so much,’ Debbie said, kissing her son on the cheek until he wriggled with glee in Carl’s arms. ‘Sam, I want you to meet Faith. She’s your baby sister.’
‘Granny,’ Sam replied, pointing at the tiny face poking out from a pink blanket in Debbie’s arms.
‘She is a bit wrinkly isn’t she,’ Carl laughed, ruffling his blonde hair and gazing down at his daughter.
‘They took away the respirator this morning,’ Debbie explained, her eyes meeting Guy’s. ‘She’s going to be here for a good few weeks and it’s too early to say if she’ll have any problems later on, but she’s here and she’s breathing on her own.’
‘Debbie...’ Guy croaked, bending down to kiss his big sister.
‘Hello mum and Dad,’ a midwife with a thick Dublin accent interrupted as she weaved her way through the rows of incubators. ‘And you must be the gorgeous Sammy I’ve heard so much about,’ she said, smiling at the little boy, hiding his face in his father’s shoulder, as she strode towards them.
‘Now mummy, I’ve put up with you under my feet for several days now, even though mums need their rest just as much as babies. So do you think you can go back to bed for a few hours now that little Faith is doing so well?’
‘Will you-’
‘Any changes and we’ll let you know straight away, but as we said this morning - plenty of food and this little fighter will be home in no time.
Debbie bent her head, planting a gentle kiss on the forehead of her daughter and placing her carefully into the tiny incubator.
Thank you so much Georgina. For everything,’ Debbie said to the midwife.
‘You’re most welcome Mrs James. Now, off you go,’ she said, guiding Debbie towards the door and turning back to Guy. ‘And Mr Rawson, you might want to read this whilst your sister gets some rest,’ she grinned, holding out a tatty copy of The Daily.
‘Err...thanks,’ he replied, taking the newspaper.
‘Page five.’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘The story you’ll be wanting to read. It’s on page five,’ she grinned.
‘Right,’ he nodded, already peeling back the pages as he followed Debbie, Carl and Sam out of the room.
THE DAILY
SATURDAY, MARCH 01ST
THE NEVER ENDING STORY
Juicy Jules: “I Love you, Guy”
Even we are getting a bit bored with this pair of star-crossed lovers, but we couldn’t resist this ending of sweet sorrow.
The former girlfriend of Guy Rawson has retracted her earlier comments to reveal that she is “madly, deeply in love” with the sexy singer.
The property developed from Cambridgeshire said in an exclusive interview with The Daily: “I’ve been running away for five years, and I’ve made a lot of mistakes, but I won’t make the mistake of ruining this chance.” The previously hailed man-eater went on to say: “Have you ever touched something and got that spark of electricity from the static? That’s what it’s like with Guy every time we meet.”
“Guy, if you read this, please
come back to me. I love you, I always have.”
After reuniting briefly, the lovers are said to be separated again, although based on the soppy comments from both Guy and Juliet, we at The Daily can’t see why. So on behalf of everyone at The Daily and all of our readers, please GET IT TOGETHER!
‘Wow,’ Debbie said, reading the story next to Guy.
‘What on earth?’ Guy mumbled, scanning the story again.
Why had she done it? he wondered as thoughts of Jules flooded back.
He couldn’t understand it. After the night they’d had together, she could have called, but she didn’t. So why do this?
‘Guy?’
‘Yeah’ He turned to his sister, still standing in the hallway despite the nurse’s instructions.
‘What are you still doing here?’
‘What?’ he asked, staring at his sister’s exhausted face.
‘Go get her for god’s sake,’ she said, giving Guy a shove. ‘And whatever you do, don’t muck it up again.’
‘I…I can’t leave you,’ he stammered.
‘Yes you can. Look we’re fine,’ she replied, wrapping her arm around Carl and Sam. ‘Faith is beautiful. She is feeding and she is breathing on her own. Thank you for everything you’ve done. You are a wonderful brother, but we’re fine.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Mate,’ Carl added, ‘Listen to your big sister for once and get out of here.
‘Okay.’ Guy grinned, placing a kiss on his sister’s cheek. ‘I love you, sis.’
‘Love you too. Now get out of here.’
Thirty-eight
Jules breathed a heavy sigh as she sat down on the fourth step of her stairs. Everywhere she looked huddles of smiling faces greeted her. Terri had been right; it seemed the whole of Cottinghale had turned out to say hello and look around her house.
No one had mentioned her earlier interview in The Daily. Whatever Terri and Sally had said to the residents had worked. Or perhaps it was Rich’s plan to call the paper and offer another interview that had trumped their interest, Jules wondered.
The Reluctant Celebrity Page 22
