Unknown by Unknown

as he fastened the minute hook and eye at the top of the zip, and she shivered involuntarily. Then she pulled herself together and tried for a little calm and common sense.
    ‘Is Philip ready?’
    ‘Mmm.’ He was mocking her and she refused to look up into his face. ‘My mother resisted the temptation to dress him in white velvet to match the bride, so he can travel as he is. He’s waiting for us in the car.’
    Kate fastened on the subject of Philip and let it occupy her mind to the exclusion of all else. She was living by the hour, she reflected dully. One hour at a time and concentrating on the ‘now’ so that she could push the future away. ‘I hope he hasn’t been allowed to overeat,’ she heard her own voice and it sounded strange, a bit shrill. ‘I don’t want him being sick in your car.’
    ‘We aren’t going in the Ferrari.’ Jerome sounded so matter-of-fact that she almost stopped shaking. ‘Mother has lent us her chauffeur and her car. If Philip is sick in it, it will be her own fault for feeding him unsuitable things. Hurry now, please.’
    Kate grabbed her handbag and went past him, thinking hard about Philip, Mrs Manfred’s antique Rolls and her equally antique chauffeur. When the car turned off the main road and down into the small town of Staines, she was jerked out of her apathy.
    ‘I thought... the airport... Heathrow....’
    ‘Not today.’ Jerome slanted a glance down at her and then at the drowsy child on the seat beside her. ‘Neither of you is fit to travel any farther today. Although Philip has spared us by not being sick, he’s eaten too much, whereas you’ve eaten nothing. Tonight we shall stay in a nearby hotel. We can fly to Rome tomorrow morning when you’ve both had a rest. We shall stay there one night too and then we’ll drive down to Calabria. It will be better for Philip.’
    Kate had hardly expected this amount of consideration and her eyes widened. She would have liked to have waved it all away airily and insisted that they continue the journey as planned, but she felt too exhausted and hungry. That was a surprise to her, that she should feel hungry, but as she told herself grimly, the prisoner was always given a hearty meal before the execution. ‘I’m hungry,’ she announced, although it came out as a plaintive wail.
    ‘Dinner has been ordered.’
    That night she slept in a double bedroom with Philip while Jerome occupied the single room next door. There was a communicating door, but she locked it firmly. She lay in the darkness, listening to Philip’s easy breathing, and felt half glad, half sorry. Was it a fate worse than death, or couldn’t it be called that when it happened to a married woman? The silly thought brought a near-hysterical giggle to her throat. It wasn’t happening tonight, though, and that pleased one half of her. The other half would have been glad to get it over. It was like being under sentence of death with the date of the execution fixed. She had been nearly prepared for it, she had had the hearty meal and she was in just the right frame of mind—numb! Now there had been a stay of execution and she had another twenty-four hours to get through and then try to recapture the numbness. Meanwhile she was here; alone, full of good food and tired to death.
    She slept deeply and dreamlessly, so that when she woke, she gazed around at the unfamiliar room and for a moment wondered where she was. Then memory came rushing back and she drew her left hand from beneath the covers and looked at the heavy gold ring on her finger. Her eyes slid across to the other bed where Philip had been sleeping and she half rose in the bed as she realised that Philip was no longer there. She stopped being frightened only when the bedroom door opened and the little boy and Jerome came in quietly, or as quietly as Philip ever came into a room. He flung himself at her, scrambling to sit comfortably on her stomach.
    ‘Jumbo jet!’ he announced, and then, ‘Fly!’