Wild Blue Yonder (The Ceruleans: Book 3) (15 page)

‘“If I speak in the tongues of mortals and of angels, but do
not have love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal…”’

An unexpected noise from behind made me jump. Not a gong.
Not a cymbal. A pop.

‘Oh!’ said a voice. Then: ‘Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh.’

I snapped around to find Estelle braced on the edge of her
seat, below which a small puddle was forming.

‘Estelle!’ said Adam sharply. ‘Are you in
labour
?’

A ripple of anxiety ran through the room – mutterings,
whisperings.

Evangeline was at Estelle’s side in an instant. ‘How close
are the contractions?’ she asked.

‘Close,’ admitted Estelle. She looked distraught. ‘It’s
happening so fast! I’m sorry, I thought it would be ages…’

Evangeline turned and looked quickly from Jude to me, then
addressed the room:

‘Well, it looks as though we’re to have a different kind of
blessing on this day – a new member of our family. We’ll postpone the ceremony,
for our focus now must be Estelle and her son. Thank you all for coming.’ She
gave a dismissive wave to the ensemble, and then gestured for Adam to get out
of the way and took his seat beside Estelle.

The room erupted into noise and movement as Ceruleans
jostled their way back into the hotel, keen, it seemed, to get away from a
birthing woman as fast as possible. Only the women came forward, huddling
around Estelle like a protective human barrier. Adam, shunted back, stood
awkwardly to the side, his arms flapping up and down like a demented penguin.

Jude and I stared at each other.

‘Well, I guess that’s us saved by the baby,’ he whispered.

The smile I gave him was the first true one of the day, but
a groan from Estelle killed the floaty-buzz moment.

‘I’m sorry, Scarlett! I tried to hold off, honestly!’

I crossed to her and the women opened up a gap to let me
into their huddle. Putting a reassuring hand on Estelle’s hunched shoulder, I
said, ‘Don’t be crazy. You’re having a baby! That’s nothing to apologise for.
That’s amazing!’

The women around made soothing noises of agreement.

‘You’d better go change, Scarlett,’ said Estelle. ‘I’d hate
for you to ruin your dress.’

‘What?’ The smile slipped from my face as I remembered our
conversation weeks ago in the barn. ‘Oh no, Estelle, I really don’t think I’d
be the best person to have about for –’

‘Nonsense,’ said Evangeline brusquely. ‘Of course you’ll
attend the birth.’

‘But –’

‘Why else would we have halted the ceremony but for the fact
you’re needed, Scarlett? It’s part of your role here. Your duty. Now, the
ladies and I will take Estelle to the Birth Place. You get changed and then
meet us there.’

Desperately, I looked over at Jude. Sympathy was etched all
over his face, but also helplessness.

‘Don’t just stand there, dear,’ commanded the woman who held
the keys to my prison. ‘Off you go.’

And just like that, my ‘not a wedding but a lot like a wedding’
day turned into my ‘off to watch a woman give birth’ day. Not what I’d had in
mind when I woke up that morning, but equally nauseating.

Running through the hotel in high heels turned out to be
quite a challenge, but once I’d changed into the usual jeans, tee and trainers
I made much better time charging across to the Birth Place. But when I joined
the other women, in the room where I’d met baby February in, well, February,
there was widespread amusement at my bursting in, red-faced and panting and
demanding (somewhat hopefully), ‘Is it over? Did I miss it?’

I steadied myself on the door jam and took in the scene.
Estelle was on all-fours on a blue plastic sheet, splayed over an enormous
inflatable ball and bouncing rhythmically. The other women had assumed their
positions on seats along the far side of the room, leaving Evangeline – covered
up in an apron, I noted – to kneel beside Estelle and rub her back with hands
blurred with blue. The mood in the room was serene and peaceful.

‘Hi, Scarlett,’ said Estelle calmly.

‘Hi,’ I said. ‘Er… how are you doing?’

‘Good.’ She breathed deeply, and the blue haze at her back
deepened in colour.

I looked about for a spare seat, but Evangeline instructed:
‘Scarlett, come kneel beside me.’

‘What, there?’

‘Yes.’

‘Right
there
?’

She was pointing to a spot on the sheet by Estelle’s rear
end.

‘Yes, dear. Come on now, don’t be frightened.’

Frightened didn’t even begin to cover how I felt. I looked
at the other women, lined up like posh spectators at Wimbledon, still dressed
in their finery. The penny dropped: they hadn’t been told to change, only me.
Oh heavens. That meant mess near
me
.

‘Scarlett.’ Evangeline’s tone was sharp now.

‘S’all right, Scarlett,’ breathed Estelle. ‘Babies don’t
bite.’

I kneeled gingerly on the sheet.

‘Good,’ said Evangeline. ‘Now put your hands on Estelle
there, dear. That’s right. Just a little lower, so they’re right above my
hands. And now, I want you to help me ease the pain, Scarlett. Do you know what
to do?’

‘I think so. But I haven’t done it since…’

‘That’s okay. Just try it now.’

Estelle, arched over the birthing ball, let out a low,
guttural moan. I didn’t think; I simply reacted: I splayed my hands on her back
and I
willed
the pain to leave her. Energy surged from my hands: hot,
blue light.

Luke, lying on the beach, limp. My hands on his chest, my
light flooding into him.

Tears blinded me.

Estelle said, ‘Oh – oh, that’s nice.’

Evangeline said, ‘Excellent, Scarlett. Well done! Keep it
up!’

I closed my eyes and, forcing away memories of Luke, I
focused everything in me on that energy. I lost track of time and place. I lost
myself in the act of healing.

Sometime later, a long time later, my hands were pulled
away. I opened my eyes. I felt disorientated, light-headed, cold. Estelle was
panting heavily, her face screwed up tight, and making noises that reminded me
of Moomin the cow. Instinctively, I reached out to touch my friend again, but
Evangeline brushed me away.

‘She’s pushing,’ she explained. ‘She needs sensation to feel
the contraction, to push. Just hold her hand now.’

I had little choice in the matter: Estelle had grabbed my
hand and now she pushed and pushed and pushed so hard I thought she’d surely
have a brain aneurysm. At least I was up towards her head now, even if I may
never have use of my hand again.

Evangeline and the other women chanted encouragement:

‘Come on now, Estelle.’

‘Go with your body.’

‘He’s coming, he’s coming.’

‘Push! Push!’

Estelle gave an almighty screech, and then went limp over
the ball, panting.

‘You’re doing great,’ I told her, though I had no idea
whether that were true.

‘You can give her some light, Scarlett, between
contractions,’ said Evangeline, so I let warmth flood through my fingertips
into Estelle.

‘Oh, that’s bliss,’ she groaned.

As freaked out as I was, her words touched something inside.
To have the power to ease her pain: it was amazing.

Another contraction came, and I broke off the healing.
Pushing, pushing, pushing, pushing… and then the collapse. Then more healing.
Then more pushing. And so it went on, in an ever-tightening, ever-more-charged
circle, so that there was nothing in the world, nothing, but the light pulsing
on, off, on, off.

Until, finally, Evangeline called, ‘Here he comes,’ and
Estelle cried out and then… and then we were ten.

I collapsed back onto my heels and stared at the new little
person in Evangeline’s arms. He was tiny. He was wrinkly. He was gunky. He was
grumpy-faced like an old man disturbed from a nap. He was perfect.

Estelle was saying ‘Oh, baby, oh baby’ and struggling to
turn and sit, so I helped her, and she ended up collapsed against my chest with
me propping her up. She held out her arms, and Evangeline handed over her son,
already neatly swaddled. Cradled in his mother’s arms, he squinted up at his
mother, little fingers flexing, and then opened his mouth and gave a mewling
cry.

And though I was shivering with shock, and though I was
weary to my bones, and though I’d just seen enough gore to fuel a lifetime of
nightmares, and though I was meant to detest the child-making and child-rearing
practices on this island, the only word on my lips was, ‘Beautiful.’

*

I left the Birth Place in something of a dream. Had that
really happened? Had I really been there, seen that? I’d lost all sense of
time, and was surprised to find that the corridor leading into the main hotel
was shadowy. I reached a window and looked out into darkness. How late was it –
the middle of the night? Would Jude be up, waiting, wondering? I hoped he was.
I wanted to tell him about Estelle and baby April.

I drifted back along the corridor and down into the lounge.
It was silent and empty. Adam had been there, waiting, I guessed, but he was
upstairs now with his son and his partner – the women-only hour was over, and
now Adam and Estelle and April were to be left alone until the morning. I
crossed to the staircase and began ascending. It was hard work. My legs were
shaking, my head was swimming: all that healing had wiped me out. I slid a hand
along the banister, hauling myself up each step. I focused on my hand. I
stopped still. The fingers were bare. The ring – Jude’s ring – I’d taken it off
in the Birth Place when it snagged on Estelle’s dress; Evangeline had untangled
it for me quickly and put it in the pocket of her apron, telling me to get it
from her later.

Well, now it was later, and I’d forgotten to reclaim it. I
stared at the bare finger. I’d got used to the feel of the ring over these last
weeks, and I felt naked now without it. It didn’t matter. I’d get it from
Evangeline tomorrow. I’d have to go to her then anyway to sort the whole
postponement business. Perhaps, given that Jude and I had been there under the
arch before everyone, ready and waiting, she’d take that as enough proof of
commitment. Perhaps she’d let us go and find Sienna. Yes, that’s what would
happen: we’d go soon – then she’d have plenty of time to reschedule the event
(it had been something of a challenge the first time round to coordinate the
Kikorangi lot, so I’d gathered). My heart leaped at the thought that as soon as
tomorrow I may be gone.

And yet I remained frozen on the stairs, halfway, neither up
nor down. I knew Evangeline would still be in the Birth Place; when I’d left
she’d been busy sorting baby clothes. If I didn’t go back now, how would she
interpret that? Either that I’d forgotten the ring, or I hadn’t thought it
important to get it back on my finger with urgency – both she could construe as
evidence that I wasn’t as attached to that ring, and what it stood for, as I
ought to be.

Surely it didn’t matter. But what if it did? To fall at the
final hurdle, so close to freedom, just because I was too weary to go back and
ask for an item of jewellery…

With one last, longing look at the upstairs landing, I
sighed and then turned and made my way back through the hotel. The corridor
leading to the Birth Place was as empty and shadowy as I’d left it, but it was
no longer silent. The moment I turned the corner, I heard voices ahead – one
low and rumbling, the other higher and level. Evangeline. Good, she was still
here. I strode along to the room from which the voices were coming. The door
was pushed to, leaving just a crack of light spilling into the corridor. I had
my hand on the door, ready to open it, when I heard my name.

‘And Scarlett? How did she get on?’

Nathaniel’s voice. I knew I should open the door, but I was
intrigued – how would Evangeline grade her newest recruit? Highly, as it turned
out:

‘Very well indeed. The girl’s a natural. She has it – the
passion. Reminds me of myself at her age. And she has a good command of her
light.’

‘Bound to, dear.’

The sound of a kiss. Then:

‘Shame about the ceremony today, Eve. All those flowers –
we’ll have to re-order them, I suppose, for another date.’

‘Can’t be helped. We couldn’t get all the boys back together
soon enough.’

‘How long do you think?’

‘Oh, I don’t know. A few weeks? There’s really no rush, is
there?’

I bit my lip.

‘So their little trip to the mainland will be postponed as
well?’

‘No, Nate. It won’t be postponed.’

A smile crept across my face. At last!

‘I don’t understand. I thought they were to go
after
their ceremony?’

‘After consummation of their union, actually. The clock’s
ticking, and every day that goes by in the meantime is one less in Scarlett’s
fertile window.’

‘Ah, I see.’

I rolled my eyes. Well, at least consummation was one thing Evangeline
couldn’t police. A little white lie would do nicely there.

‘So, you’ll be instructing Jude tomorrow for their little
trip – check in with you daily, stay clear of the border, don’t engage with
Gabriel’s lot, all that?’

‘No, dear, that won’t be necessary. Our loyal friend took me
aside before the service and had a quiet word.’

‘He had news?’

A heavy sigh.

‘Oh, Eve love. Bad news, then.’

‘Yes. There’s no saving her now. We’ve lost her, Nate.’

My heart was beating wildly now. Someone was bringing news
to Evangeline on the sly? Who? From where? And what ‘her’ were they talking
about? Surely not…

‘So there’ll be no trip to the mainland.’

‘There’ll be no trip to the mainland.’

What?

‘Poor Scarlett,’ said Nathaniel. ‘She’ll take this hard, I’m
afraid.’

‘She will. We’ll just have to hope that Jude can get her
through it.’

‘What if she still insists on going?’

‘Then Jude and I will have to convince her of the futility
of the act.’

‘There really is no point in going now. The poor girl.’

One foot took an involuntary step back, ready to propel me
away from here, from the dawning realisation that was coming. But I dug in my
heels. I had to hear this.

‘The poor
girls
, Nate. Scarlett
and
Sienna.
Those little girls we once watched playing innocently on the beach at Twycombe.
Do you remember? Their little pigtails. Their little pinafores. Playing so
happily with Peter and his wife. So young and spirited and full of potential.
It’s a tragedy.’

There was a long silence, and then:

‘You’ll tell Scarlett tomorrow, Eve?’

‘Yes, I suppose I have to tell her. Only, how? How do you
tell a girl like Scarlett, so fiercely loyal, so deeply sensitive, that the
quest she’s held dear all these months has crumbled to dust? That her whole
reason for allowing Jude to bring her here has vanished, just like that, with
one senseless, terrible,
damnable
act! How do you tell a girl who’s
borne so much and fought so hard that the sister she loves is gone?’