The White House - Book 6, The Porth Kerensa Series

Chapter Eight

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine; you make me happy when skies are grey. You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you; please don’t take my sunshine away.”

The softly sung nursery rhyme edged into James’ sleep, pulling him away from the promisingly erotic dream he was having about his new secretary. He surfaced from slumber and sat up in the darkness, wondering what had woken him. His erection strained against his pyjama trousers and disappointment curdled with shame as he recalled the vague pleasurable feeling of the dream Amy Collins pressed against him. Absently, he stroked himself, contemplating the idea of masturbating before he went back to sleep.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine; you make me happy when skies are grey. You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you; please don’t take my sunshine away.”

His erection deflated instantly when he heard the quiet singing coming from upstairs. James climbed out of bed, slipped his dressing gown on and went out into the hallway. Elise’s door was open and the room was in darkness, however he could see her bed was empty. Muttering swear words under his breath he walked, slowly, up to the attic.

Elise was sitting on the floor, near the bloody creepy wooden horse, crooning softly and rocking, slowly. Quietly, James moved across the room so he could see her properly. Her eyes were open, although she didn’t appear to notice him, and her arms were circled as if she was cradling a small child against her. He waved his hand in front of her glassy gaze, but she didn’t even blink. She simply carried on singing and rocking.

The memory of the night Noah had been delivered knifed through him and his knees nearly buckled beneath him. After all the miscarriages Elise had suffered, the blame she’d heaped upon herself and her desperation to have a baby, he had thought that nothing else could ever make him feel completely helpless. However, those hours in a hospital room watching his wife bite her bottom lip to hold in her cries as labour pains wracked her exhausted body and she pushed out a baby that everyone in the room knew was dead, had taught him a new bitter lesson.

That night, when she sat and cradled her stillborn child in her arms; rocking, crooning lullabies and kissing him, had showed James what helpless really meant. There were no words that could offer her any kind of comfort and no embrace warm enough to help her forget what she had been through and what she surely now had to accept she would never have.

In the weeks afterwards he had hoped and believed he would find the words and strength to help them move on, but her grief was like a devastating earthquake that ripped away their weak foundations. He had watched her replay those brief hours, holding her son; deluding herself over and over again into believing that the baby was alive, until James thought she would drive him as mad as she was becoming.

Now, he couldn’t help but recall the fear that had been his constant companion when he had watched his wife sinking into madness with every day that passed.

The doctors had told him she was better. She had promised it was over and that they could start again and leave the past behind, but she had packed her emotional baggage and brought it all with her. He pitied her; however, more and more he found himself resenting her. He wanted to grab hold of her and snap her out of her selfish fugue, but he was afraid he’d shake her until she was limp. The anger that churned inside him was violent and acidic. It shamed, excited and scared him in equal measures. He had no control over it and the realisation of what he was capable of sat in his stomach like a worm eating away at his insides.

She stopped singing, suddenly, and he thought she had woken up, but her eyes were still empty and unseeing. She stood up, completely oblivious to him only a few feet from her, and walked out of the room. He followed behind her, watching her walk downstairs and get back into her bed.