Honey-Dew by Louise Doughty

Author:Louise Doughty [Doughty, Louise]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Crime, Thriller, Mystery & Detective, Fiction, Women Sleuths, Suspense
ISBN: 9781416526308
Google: y4-rAgAAQBAJ
Amazon: B00I1H28T0
Publisher: Simon and Schuster
Published: 2014-02-27T00:00:00+00:00

6

And Isaac spake unto Abraham his father, and said . . . Behold the fire and the wood: but where is the lamb for a burnt offering?

Genesis 22: 7

At what point did she know that the baby was evil?

She knew when it was still in the womb. From the moment the doctor had announced her pregnancy, Joyce Akenside had felt a coldness inside, a solid lump of knowledge in her stomach that told her this was wrong.

‘But I’ve got two already,’ she heard herself saying to Dr Carter, as if he didn’t know. ‘A boy and a girl,’ she continued lamely. She already had a boy and a girl. That was enough, more than enough. She had one of each. What did she need another one for?

Dr Carter was a genial man, never short-tempered like some other doctors. There were decorative handles on his filing cabinets. China cups and saucers teetered on the edge of his battered wooden desk – a touch of unprofessionalism which endeared him to his women patients. He drank tea. He was a man with human needs.

‘Well,’ he said, ‘two isn’t really that many, you know, although I know it’s common to have only two these days. You’ll probably be surprised how easy it is now you’ve got the hang of it. I wouldn’t worry.’ Silenced by his clumsy reassurances, her tongue burned with the unuttered.

On her journey home, she stopped at The Teapot and ordered a coffee. Normally, she did some shopping before going to collect her youngest from nursery, but normality had come crashing down. She needed to break her routine in order to prove to herself that this was really happening. She chose a window seat and sipped automatically, not realising she had drained the cup until she tipped nothing but air between her open lips.

Outside, the High Street was almost empty. The occasional young mother hurried by, raincoat-clad. Opposite The Teapot was Christopher’s Hosiery and Fancy Goods and it occurred to her that the corners of her husband’s handkerchiefs were tatty. The window of the shop announced that many items were reduced. She felt a fleeting rush of annoyance that it didn’t say which. She would go in to buy handkerchiefs and come out with tea towels, which would be no good to Gordon at all.

People don’t wear headscarves any more, she thought aimlessly. By ‘people’ she meant other mothers like herself. The vagaries of fashion did not often penetrate Oakham but she felt the whole pressure of the changing world in this one small detail. Now we must all walk around with unprotected heads, her thoughts continued, so that anything can get at us. She fingered the small gold cross she wore on a fine chain round her neck. It had been a Confirmation present from her father.

Dear Lord, she thought distinctly, and it was all she could do to prevent herself from bowing her head right there in The Teapot. I have asked for very little. I have done what I was supposed to do.

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