Looking at her watch, Nell saw it was far too late to ring Wendy and anyway, he would be there. Crawling into bed and covering herself with the blankets, Nell turned off the bedside lamp and decided to wait until morning, then start to make arrangements. Even though her mind was buzzing, she tried to switch off, her body was tired and she had an early start. Soon her eyes drooped and sleep arrived to ease her worries for a while.
Outside, the snow continued to fall, layer upon layer, like lies upon lies. Roads around the town gradually disappeared from view, becoming impassable as they merged into the surrounding fields and slopes. Trees sagged and boughs strained while the mighty Pyrenees shouldered the burden of dense frozen ice that was topped by virgin snow, until it became too much to bear.
In the early hours of the morning, as Nell dreamt of Wendy and home, dark craggy peaks and grey city rooftops, she didn’t hear the whoomph as powdery snow compressed, then slid across layers of ice. Nor did the thunderous sound of the avalanche as it tumbled down the mountain, watched only by the moon and stars from an inky black sky, disturb her or the residents of the hotel.
But when Nell was woken early the next morning by Alba, asking her to hurry downstairs as she was needed in the kitchen, she found the hotel abuzz with news of an avalanche. The town was cut off and it would take days to clear the roads of rocks, ice and debris that had been hurled from the mountainside.
While Nell helped to prepare food and drinks for the volunteers and emergency services, she prayed nobody had lost their lives during the night. She also prayed for her friend who was so many miles away and out of reach. Nell was trapped and her precious Wendy was going to have to manage for a bit longer, alone.
14
City Road Cemetery, with its imposing stone-built entrance, was eerily quiet as the hearse and funeral car passed under the archway and turned left, heading towards the children’s section. So many tiny graves, so much colour from toys and flowers, so much love.
Both drivers exited their vehicles, and Margaret and Wendy were helped from the Daimler. The other driver moved to the back of his hearse and lifted the tailgate. Inside was the tiniest of coffins, topped with a heart-shaped wreath of pink and white carnations.
Two further cars pulled up behind, and Wendy looked back at the occupants. She recognised Margaret’s neighbour, and presumed the occupant of the second car was a friend. Both women moved towards Margaret, and hugged her.
The funeral directors waited patiently, until it was the right time to move towards the newly dug grave.
The vicar walked towards Margaret and took hold of her hand. ‘We’re ready whenever you are, Margaret. Take your time.’
Margaret gave a slight nod and looked towards Wendy.
‘Are you ready?’ Wendy asked, not prepared to allow anybody to bully her new-found friend into anything.
‘I am,’ she said, and took Wendy’s hand as they moved to stand behind the man lifting the coffin from the back of the hearse.
The four women formed a small procession, led by the vicar and the man carrying the coffin. They arrived at the edge of what seemed to be such a deep hole for such a tiny occupant, and gathered around.
Tears were flowing freely down Margaret’s face, and she clung to Wendy. Margaret knew she had made the right decision to have a graveside service; she doubted she would have been able to live through a service in church, or even at the crematorium, then have to bury her baby at the end of it. This way felt right; this way was what she wanted.
In the end, Margaret heard nothing of the service. The words hovered in the air, but she was in such a traumatised state all eyes were on her. Finally, the coffin was lowered, their roses were dropped in, and that small act finished Margaret off.
She stumbled back to the car, unable to take any more, and climbed into the Daimler. The hearse had disappeared, and that in itself caused more tears. It almost felt to her that while the hearse was still there, so was Natalie.
Wendy thanked the vicar, who smiled gently and told her to follow her friend. ‘Tell her I’ll pop round and see her later in the week,’ the vicar said. ‘But she needs you today.’
Wendy nodded, and went to join Margaret. The other two ladies stayed a couple of minutes at the graveside, then went to their own cars.
Within ten minutes the grave was being filled in, with the pretty wreath placed carefully on top, along with three smaller sprays of white flowers from the other attendees. Snowflakes gently fell, and by mid-afternoon the new grave looked exactly the same as the others in the special area, a pristine white mound.
Wendy stayed with a distraught Margaret, afraid to leave her. They used many teabags that afternoon, talked about inconsequential rubbish because they were afraid to touch on the one thing that mattered above all else: Natalie.
Wendy tried not to stroke her own baby bump when the baby moved; the sense of guilt for being pregnant when Margaret had lost everything was overwhelming. They watched as the snow grew deeper and deeper, and eventually Wendy gave in.
‘Margaret, I think I’d better make a move, or I’ll never get home.’
‘You can stay. Please don’t risk an accident.’
‘I can’t. How would I explain this to Mike? He doesn’t even know I’ve gone out, and our friendship has to remain secret. You know what he’d be like if he found out anything about today.’
She stood and went to get her coat. ‘When I get home I’ll ring you and let you know I’m safe. Can I do anything for you before I go?’
Margaret shook her head. ‘No, I’ll be fine, honestly. Let the phone ring twice, then I’ll know you’re home. I’ll not answer it, because it will show on your bill. Let’s not give him any ammunition. Do the same again if he goes out and I’ll ring you.’
They walked to the door together, and Wendy kissed her. ‘Take care, Margaret. I’ll come and see you as soon as the roads clear.’
Margaret gave a small smile, the first of the day. ‘Let’s hope you don’t go into labour until they clear. You’ve only got about three weeks, so really it could happen anytime.’
They hugged, and Wendy walked carefully out to her car. She cleared the snow as much as she could, then waved at Margaret, who was standing in the lounge window watching her. Wendy negotiated the side road with difficulty, but the main roads had been gritted and she made good time getting home.
Her home was on a small side road, on an incline, and she cursed out loud as the car slipped backwards. ‘Bloody Sheffield hills,’ she muttered, and breathed a sigh of relief as the car came to a halt.
She could see that a little higher up the road there was another struggling car, so she decided to abandon hers. It had come to rest at the kerb, so she picked up her bag and got out of the car. She locked it and trudged up the middle of the road, following the tyre marks she had made. The other car had been abandoned, and she shook her hair to get rid of the snowflakes that were accumulating. She had had the thought only another twenty-five yards or so when she felt her foot go from under her, and she went down with a thud.
She sat for a moment, feeling as though there was no breath left in her body. She knew she had no chance of getting back onto her feet with any semblance of elegance, so she slowly rolled over until she was on her knees. She crawled to where she knew the kerb was, and levered herself upright, then went down with another crash as pain shot through her body. She couldn’t support her weight on her right ankle.