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She reasoned with herself that an illegitimate child was the very last thing she wanted, but even while she knew it to be true, there was still a feeling of emptiness inside her.
'Dominic was asking after you yesterday,' her mother commented, watching her as she stood motionless before the sitting-room window staring out at the white landscape. Blizzard conditions had been forecast for later in the day, but as yet there was no sign of it in the clear deep blue arc of the sky and the brilliant glitter of the sun. Despite the sunshine, it was bitterly cold, well below freezing, and only that morning had the snow-plough cleared the way up the lane.
'Christy, can't you tell me what's wrong? Can't I help at all?' her mother asked sadly when Christy made no response to her earlier remark. 'You can't go on like this. You're losing weight… you've become so withdrawn that your father and I hardly recognise our daughter any more, and Dominic doesn't look much better. If you've quarrelled, surely you could make it up?'
'It wasn't that sort of quarrel,' Christy told her heavily, refusing to turn round. The very sound of Dominic's name on someone else's lips was enough to start the silly weak tears she cried at night in the privacy of her room flowing again.
'Your father tells me that Amanda has gone back to London.'
The sensation that jolted through her, hope mingled with despair, warned her how very vulnerable she was. She told herself that Amanda's departure meant nothing, and that in any case, even if Dominic's relationship with the other woman had petered out, there was still absolutely no hope of him every feeling about her the way she did about him.
By his very words to her about Amanda's desire for a second marriage, he had shown how far any sort of permanent commitment was from his own mind, and she loved him far too much to be his partner in a meaningless sexual affair.
'Talking of Amanda, I've heard another fascinating piece of gossip about the Andrews family. You'll never guess what. The Major and Lady Anthony are going to get married! Apparently he's been in love with her for years, and they had planned to get married but her father refused his permission. He insisted that Lady Anthony marry her cousin, and she and the Major quarrelled bitterly about it. The Vicar's wife told me the whole story. The ceremony is to take place in the Manor's private chapel,
and there's to be a wedding breakfast there afterwards. I think it's one of the most romantic things I've ever heard of, don't you? I suppose he's never stopped loving her for all this time.'
It was romantic, and Christy was pleased for them both, but somehow hearing about the happiness of others only served to emphasise her own misery.
'I hope the snow holds off,' she heard her mother sigh. 'Your father and I are due to visit the Hopkinses tomorrow. We haven't seen them since before Christmas.'
Helen and Bill Hopkins were very close friends of Christy's parents and lived in Alnwick. They had spent Christmas and New Year with their daughter and her family in Leeds, but had recently returned, and apparently Dominic had agreed that her mother was now well enough to go and visit them.
'I know Helen would be delighted to see you if you want to come with us.'
Christy shook her head. 'No, thanks, Mum, I'm not feeling very sociable at the moment. In fact, now that you're properly on the road to recovery, I shall have to do something about finding myself another job. I'll have to start getting the London papers.'
'Oh, but Christy, your father and I had hoped… Oh well, it's your life, my dear.'
Early the next morning Christy's parents set out for Alnwick. They had been gone less than an hour when the sky clouded over ominously, the wind picking up in velocity. Watching the first furious flurries of snow drifting in the high-speed winds, Christy shivered, and prayed that her parents made it to their friends safely.
Half an hour later when the phone rang and she heard her father's voice she was not surprised when he told her that they had decided to stay over in Alnwick and spend the night with their friends.
'I think you're very wise, Dad. It's snowing so heavily I can barely see the drive from the window, and it's drifting like mad.'
'Yes, it's the same here, although it's only just started. You must have got it before us. The local forecast isn't at all good, and the last thing your mother needs right now is to be stranded in a snowdrift. She's worried about you, though, Christy. Will you be all right on your own?'
'I'm a big girl now, Dad. I've been living on my own for several years—remember?'
She heard her father chuckle and was glad that she had managed to reassure him. She felt guilty because she knew that her parents had been worried about her. She knew that she ought to make an effort to seem more cheerful. After another five minutes on the phone she managed to reassure her mother that she wasn't either going to starve or freeze to death in the brief space of twenty-four hours, and then she hung up.
The day stretched endlessly in front of her. It was only just lunchtime, although outside it was almost dusk, and it was snowing so heavily it was impossible to see where earth ended and sky began. She hadn't exaggerated when she told her father that it was impossible to see the lane from the window, and when she went to open the back door to bring in a supply of logs from the outhouse, just in case the central heating should happen to go off, the force of the wind whipped it from her fingers, smashing it back against the wall with a harsh thud.
Already snow had drifted over a foot deep against the door, and she had to go back inside and don her anorak and wellies before she could go and get the logs.
It took her several journeys to bring in enough. Her father, with almost a lifetime's experience of winter blizzards, had advised her to keep the sitting-room fire going at all times, and even to sleep down there if necessary should the central heating fail.
She was just stamping the snow off her Wellingtons when she heard the sound of a car engine. Disbelievingly she stared towards the lane, watching the blue-grey shape of a Land Rover emerging through the blizzard. It stopped opposite the gate, the engine left running as its driver got out.
Even clad in wellies and a thick padded jacket, Christy recognised Dominic. His dark head was bare, his hair whipped by the wind and whitened by flakes of snow.
What was he doing here?
He didn't speak until he drew level with her, his curt, 'Christy, I need your help,' making her stare silently at him.
'Look, I haven't got much time. One of my patients has gone into premature labour. She lives in one of the hill farms, and there's no way we're going to be able to get her into hospital in time. Luckily they'd got this Land Rover in for a service in the garage in Setondale, and as it was an emergency they lent it to me.'
'But I can't help,' Christy protested. 'I don't have any medical training.'
