THE BALLROOM

The house is in turmoil, people hurrying in all directions. Anneke says, ‘I’ll put Karenza and Piran in my bed. We must get them warm.’

‘Where’s my mother?’ Has anyone seen my mother?’ Jo shouts.

Luke appears, looking ashen. ‘She went into the ballroom.’

Jo hurtles across the hall. It is difficult for her to push open the heavy ballroom doors but she finds strength. Inside, the inlaid mahogany cabinet has fallen against the doors and lies with its splintered drawers strewn over the floor. Dented silverware and shattered crystal are scattered around, glinting in the flashes of lightning, crunching underfoot as Jo picks her way in the shadows across the wreckage.

There is a smell of scorched resinous wood and she can see that a shattered branch of the cedar tree has smashed through one of the French windows. The framework gapes open, the woodwork split apart and the panes of glass shattered. The remains bang against the cracking plaster on the wall alongside and the long velvet curtains billow menacingly into the room, half-wrenched from their pelmet, and drenched in driving rain.

The chandelier has been ripped out of the ceiling and is swinging violently amongst the wet cedar branches. Shards of glass are scattering from its remnants, glittering in the gloom.

There is a sudden close clap of thunder and, in the intense blaze of lightning, Jo sees, lying beneath the dark branches, the tiny, vulnerable figure of Margaret, the sequins on her dress sparkling and her silk scarf fluttering in the howling wind.

Jo kneels beside her mother who lies crumpled on the floor on a bed of glass and foliage.

John comes running in. ‘Don’t try to move her,’ he says, mobile in hand, ’I’m calling 999… Yes, it’s an emergency. Ambulance…’ and to Jo, ‘Get something to put over her.’

Jo is grabbing at a loose curtain when Anneke hurries in. ’Here’s a blanket,’ she says. Seeing Margaret on the floor, she turns white but Jo says, ‘You look after the others. I’ll cope here.’

John nods to Anneke, and she retreats from the room.

John uses a cushion to sweep some of the broken glass aside, and Jo knees beside her mother. Margaret is a small, frail figure, eyes closed in a face pale above the sparkle and chiffon of her dress. A deep gash on her head oozes blood.

’It’s all right, I’m here.’ Jo crouches beside her, wrapping her in the blanket. ‘The ambulance is coming.’

Margaret eyelids flutter as she feels the blanket tucked around her. ‘Roly?’ she says. Her breathing is uneven. ‘Edward?’

‘It’s me,’ says Jo, ‘It’s me, Mummy. Jo.’

‘Jo…’ Margaret’s voice is faint, ‘Jo, I wanted…’

‘Don’t try to talk. You’ve had a bit of a bang, that’s all.’

Jo holds her mother’s hand, her eyes fixed on the shadowed face, the closed eyes, ‘I’m sorry,’ she says, ‘I didn’t mean those things I said.’ She begins to cry, quietly.

‘Don’t cry.’ It is an effort to speak and Margaret’s voice is a whisper. Her eyes open, ’There’s something I’ve been wanting to say…’

‘It’s all right,’ says Jo, ‘Don’t worry. I do love you. Really.’ She squeezes her mother’s hand, feels a slight pressure returned and hears the faint words, ‘I know.’

Margaret heaves a deep sigh. There is silence. She is still. Jo weeps, bereft.

Anneke reappears, slipping quietly in to the darkened ballroom. ‘They’re all right upstairs,’ she says. ‘How is Mrs Clemens?’ Then she gasps and puts her hands to her face.

John comes to her and steadies her. ‘It’s a shock. Hold up if you can. We’d best look after Jo.’  From outside a blue light flashes into the room. ‘The ambulance is here. I’ll go and meet them.’ 

He leaves and Anneke kneels beside Jo who is crouching, motionless. Cautiously, not certain if the gesture will be welcomed, she puts her arm across Jo’s shoulders.

Outside, the wind is easing.

Chapter 45