The Promise Tree by Elisabeth J. Hobbes

Author:Elisabeth J. Hobbes [Hobbes, Elisabeth J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780008498160
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers

When Edwin awoke it was to semi-darkness. He groaned.

“Edwin, you’re finally awake.”

The female voice was familiar. Instantly, an image of Drusilla flashed across his mind and his limbs stiffened; then he remembered who the voice belonged to. A woman was sitting in the corner of his nursery. The same place she always had.

“Annie?”

His nursemaid. Disorientation rocked him. Was he a child still, the victim of the most incredibly realistic dream?

“I think I had a nightmare. It was terrible.”

“I imagine you did. You’ve been asleep for over two days.”

“Two days?”

Edwin sat bolt upright. His clothing felt stiff and reeked of perspiration. His belly ached from hunger. Annie crossed the room and pulled open the curtains. Sunlight filled the room. She turned back to him. She was the right age. He glanced surreptitiously at himself. An adult body.

“Yes. It’s Tuesday now. You were ill so your grandfather requested my help. He said there was no one else who could tend to you. Mr Sykes said he had met you coming back from an early walk on Sunday morning and thinks you caught a chill. I’m glad I came because you were muttering about trees and coffins and if it had been left to that silly housemaid I’m sure you’d have scared her.”

She passed him a glass of water. It was lukewarm but Edwin drank it thirstily then lay back on the pillows. He grimaced. The clock in the hallway chimed five. “I’m sorry you were troubled. Your family will have needed you.”

“I haven’t been here all the time. Just popped in occasionally to check on you. I’ll go now I know you’re well. I’ll mention you are awake to your grandfather.” Annie wrinkled her nose. “And ask the maid to draw you a bath.”

She picked up a canvas bag with knitting needles poking out of the top and left. Edwin ran his hand over his face. It was rough with stubble and needed shaving. He pulled back the covers and swung his legs to the floor and, as he turned, his eye fell on the notebook. He opened it and looked at the writing that started neatly but descended into a barely legible scrawl. He closed it again and put the book back in the drawer. Anyone reading it would assume he was insane. He wouldn’t blame them. He rubbed his hands across his face and through his hair. What he’d witnessed defied explanation. He needed to think about the implications, not least that the land owned by his grandfather was home to a supernatural being. Should the town become another Lourdes with pilgrims coming to pay their respects? He had no doubt Drusilla would like nothing more but he didn’t feel particularly inclined to give it to her. He couldn’t think here, when she was so close.

Once bathed and dressed, he made his way to Stephen’s office. His grandfather gave him the merest hint of a smile and Edwin belatedly recalled that the last time they had spoken had been the clashing of opinions over Myrtle Crossle’s desirability as a bride.

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