Blue Bedroom and Other Stories by Rosamunde Pilcher Page A

mind if I stay the night with you? I can go next door and get my toothbrush and things.”
    â€œI want you to stay. You can sleep in my spare room.”
    Bryony finally went to bed, with a hot-water bottle and a tumbler of warm milk. Miss Cameron went to say goodnight, but she was too shy to stoop and kiss her. Bryony’s flame of hair was spread like red silk on Miss Cameron’s best linen pillowcase, and she had brought an aged teddy along with the toothbrush. The teddy had a threadbare nose and only one eye. Half an hour later, when she herself went to bed, she looked in and saw that Bryony was fast asleep.
    Miss Cameron lay between the sheets, but sleep did not come easily. Her brain seemed to be wound up with memories, people and places that she had not thought about in years.
    I think everybody’s interesting, Bryony had said and Miss Cameron’s heart lifted in hope for the state of the world. Nothing could be too bad if there were still young people who thought that way.
    She said you had a beautiful face. Perhaps, she thought, I don’t do enough. I have allowed myself to become too self-contained. It is selfish not to think more about other people. I must do more. I must try to travel. I shall get in touch with Dorothy after the New Year and see if she would like to come with me.
    Madeira. They could go to Madeira. There would be blue skies and bougainvillia. And jacaranda trees …
    *   *   *
    She awoke with a terrible start in the middle of the night. It was pitch dark, it was bitterly cold. The telephone was ringing. She put out a hand and turned on the bedside light. She looked at her clock and saw that it was not the middle of the night, but six o’clock in the morning. Christmas morning. She picked up the telephone.
    â€œYes?”
    â€œMiss Cameron. Ambrose Ashley here…” He sounded exhausted.
    â€œOh.” She felt quite faint. “Tell me.”
    â€œA little boy. Born half an hour ago. A lovely little boy.”
    â€œAnd your wife?”
    â€œShe’s asleep. She’s going to be fine.”
    After a little, “I’ll tell Bryony,” said Miss Cameron.
    â€œI’ll get back to Kilmoran some time this morning—around midday, I should think. I’ll ring the hotel and take you both there for lunch. That is, if you’d like to come?”
    â€œHow kind,” said Miss Cameron. “How very kind.”
    â€œYou’re the kind one,” said Mr. Ashley.
    *   *   *
    A new baby. A new baby on Christmas morning. She wondered if they would call it Noel. She got up and went to the open window. The morning was black and cold, the tide high, the inky waves lapping at the sea wall. The icy air smelt of the sea. Miss Cameron took a deep breath of it, and felt, all at once, enormously excited and filled with boundless energy. A little boy. She revelled in a great sense of accomplishment, which was ridiculous because in fact she had accomplished nothing.
    Dressed, she went downstairs to put a kettle on to boil. She laid a tea tray for Bryony and put two cups and saucers upon it.
    I should have a present, she told herself. It’s Christmas and I have nothing to give her. But she knew that with the tea tray she was taking Bryony the best present she had ever had.
    Now, it was nearly seven. She went upstairs and into Bryony’s room, set the tray down on the bedside table and turned on the lamp. She went to draw the curtains. In the bed, Bryony stirred. Miss Cameron went to sit by her, to take her hand. The teddy was visible, its ears beneath Bryony’s chin. Bryony’s eyes were opened. She saw Miss Cameron sitting there, and at once they were wide and filled with apprehension.
    Miss Cameron smiled. “Happy Christmas.”
    â€œHas my father rung?”
    â€œYou’ve got a baby brother, and your mother’s safe and sound.”
    â€œOh…” It was too much. Relief