Rift by Beverley Birch Read Free Book Online Page A

passing gaze was caught. The baby was silent, moving little. The nurse worked with one hand, propping a small boy on her hip. He was small and thin and naked, and at that moment he writhed fiercely, letting out a yell of such pain, the distress so palpable and frightening that, without thinking, Ella started towards them.
    The nurse turned and looked up. It was Pirian.
    ‘If you are idle,’ she said, ‘you can take the child.’
    ‘I don’t know how –’
    ‘He has stomach pain. Bad water. But he is not very ill, and this baby is. I must fetch the doctor.’ Insistently Pirian held theboy towards Ella. ‘He is mainly frightened because his mother is with his sister in the ward. That one is very sick.’
    Ella had never held a child before. She was panicked by the wiry strength of him as he arched, pushing away from her, and she nearly dropped him.
    ‘Give him other matters to think about,’ Pirian said. ‘It will be better for him, and better for me – I can do my work here properly. There is no one else.’
    ‘I –’ Ella began, but snapped her mouth shut because Pirian was talking to the young woman, who had lifted her sick baby and was listening with large, still eyes.
    The boy twisted again. Ella jiggled him desperately, swung him to her shoulder, pointing at bright magazine pictures tacked to the wall. A brief, hiccupy pause. She moved on, pointed at more pictures. Another sob, but quieter. The tautness of the little body slackened and his head lolled against her shoulder. She rocked him tentatively, seeing Pirian take the woman and baby out of the room, reappear, soap her hands carefully, glancing at Ella as she did so.
    ‘I am sorry for your troubles. For your sister, and for you.’ She rinsed and dried her hands, and came to take the boy from Ella. For a second Ella was reluctant to release the small, warm shape snuggling against her. For minutes there had beennothing but the child to think about.
    ‘But you know,’ Pirian went on, adjusting the boy against her own shoulder, where he seemed to be asleep, ‘people are very strong. Your sister may be very strong. People can endure many surprising things. We see them every day in this place. You should hope – hope is the strongest force there is. Hope gives courage. Truly, I know this.’ She went to put the sleeping boy in a cot and Ella followed, working out how to pull up the side and lock it for her. The child lay splayed out in damp exhaustion on the sheet.
    ‘I can stay with him, if you like. I mean, I could help some more till Inspector Murothi comes . . . ’
    For answer, Pirian only jerked her head towards the waiting-room. ‘There is much talk out there. Much, much talk. People tell each other that the English girl should not be so afraid, because Chomlaya is the place of birth, not the place of death. The great rock is the place of life. The place of life , you hear me say this? That is the meaning of Chomlaya. It is an old name, of course, but . . . ’ She did not finish, shrugging slightly and sucking air through her teeth in a soft, thoughtful clicking sound. ‘Now, the doctor is seeing your friend, and the policemen have just come. Go now – go, go! You must hear what they say. If you are here later, it will be kind if you willhelp. We will all still be here.’ She grinned wryly and waggled her head. ‘We can find many, many things to make you busy! Go!’
    Joe eyed the policemen. The two men filled the hospital room. One was short, but broad and powerfully built, in a dark grey uniform. He was doing all the talking. The other, the younger one, did not wear a uniform, and was very tall, stooping slightly as if afraid he would hit his head on the ceiling. Though he said nothing, he seemed to listen carefully, and Joe could feel his eyes on him all the time.
    Joe sat on the bed, backed up against the solidity of the frame and the mattress because he felt that everyone here held him responsible, and he didn’t know for what.
    He