Page 27 of Tamed By a Passionate Lady
Abruptly, he heard a voice, as if from a long way away. A high, sweet voice. A woman’s voice?
He listened, intently, but the words all seemed to run together. He could not make out a single thing that was being said. It was like a jumble of sound, all twisted together, incomprehensible.
But something was coming to him, now. The voice remained the same, a stream of words that he could not make head nor tail of. Instead, a picture started to emerge out of the darkness. Slowly, it started to flicker, until it was a series of pictures, all running together.
He did not know if it was a memory or a dream. But it was a blessed change from this frightening vortex that seemed to be slowly sucking him into nothing. He grabbed onto it, desperately, like a drowning man clinging to a floating branch in the endless sea.
***
He knew it was a memory, now. A very old memory.
He was five years old, and he was excited, jumping up and down on the spot as he gazed out of the parlour window. His mummy and his nanny were taking him out for the day to walk along the docks, by the great river Mersey.
“Stay still, James,” admonished Nanny, her wrinkled face stern, as she sat at the parlour table, drinking her tea. “You will mess up your good suit. If that happens, there will be no treats for you today, my boy. No sweets, and no toys.”
He gazed at her with sulky eyes, but settled down. The only thing that betrayed his excitement was the slight twitching of the curtain, where his fingers still clung to the fabric, not willing to let it go.
He was uncomfortable, in his stiff grey britches and jacket. The collar was too tight. He wanted to throw off the jacket, but he knew that Nanny would get mad at him again. When were they ever going to leave on their day out?
The door opened and Mummy swept in, a cloud of lavender following in her wake. James dropped the curtain, staring at her with wide eyes.
His mummy was beautiful, the most beautiful lady he had ever seen. She had golden hair, and big blue eyes. Her smile was always warm, especially when she gazed at him. She smelt lovely, too. Whenever he walked past a lavender bush, it reminded him of her. Today, she was wearing a blue dress, which matched the colour of her eyes.
“Well, my boy,” she said, in her melodious voice. “And are you quite ready for our day out?”
He nodded solemnly. “Yes, Mummy.”
“Good.” She ruffled his hair.
The memory seemed to cut, like a pair of scissors slicing through ribbon, and the next moment they were walking along the docks. He was breathing in the cold air, watching the tall ships with wide eyes.
His hand was warm, in Mummy’s hand. He gazed up at her, feeling so excited and so loved that he could barely contain it.
But the next minute, he spied something floating on the water. He didn’t think. He broke away from his mother, running toward the edge of the dock, peering over the edge, his eyes wide.
It looked like a miniature boat, with white sails, bobbing up and down. He had always wanted a miniature boat to sail in the pond in their local park. If he reached down, perhaps he would be able to grab it, and it would be his.
His heart was thumping with excitement and fear. He stretched out, straining, trying to get the boat, to grasp the top of it in his hand.
“James!” A sharp cry, behind him.
Mummy was running to him, her face pale, her large blue eyes full of fear. Behind her, Nanny gasped, hobbling on her walking stick towards him.
His mother was there, grabbing him, pulling him back from the edge. He tried to tell her that he was only trying to get the boat but the next minute Mummy started to flail wildly, her arms flapping in the air like a windmill’s blades. Desperately she tried to get her balance, teetering on the edge.
“Mummy!” he screamed.
But it was too late. There was a mighty splash as she fell into the river.
It was all a blur of confusion after that. He saw men running, from all directions, crying out in alarm. Two jumped in, fully clothed, paddling like dogs to get to her.
He peered over the edge with wide, horrified eyes. Mummy was floating on the surface, her head down, a mass of wet golden curls. Her blue dress ballooned in the water around her. Next to her, her bonnet had fallen off her head, floating, like limp seaweed.
Nanny’s wrinkled face loomed menacingly in his vision, like a clown he had seen at a travelling fair. She was saying something to him, over and over, but he could not hear her. All he knew was that he had to get to Mummy.
Arms were scooping him up, holding him firmly. He kicked and screamed, with all his might. He had to get back to Mummy. He had to jump into that river and save her…
The memory blurred, running like watercolours in the rain, and then it was gone.
